A Walk in the Park--Larry Stylinson
by seaecho
Summary: Louis decides to leave his corporate job behind to become a dog walker in Hollywood. He needs a friend, but trusts no one-until a tall, handsome stranger caught in a downpour needs rescuing. Gay love, graphic sex, some language. Slow burn.
1. Chapter 1

"Whoa!" Louis was very nearly yanked off his feet, barely catching himself before he went down face first on the pavement. He'd been paying attention, and was normally diligent but the young Great Dane had spotted something that really piqued his interest on the side of the road. Still a pup at eight months of age, but weighing in at over one hundred pounds, he was powerful, his sense of adventure very fresh and motivated. He'd gone up on his hind legs and plunged forward.

Louis regained control by giving the leash a sharp tug, momentarily reminding the huge pup that he was being walked, and wasn't out on an excursion solely for his own amusement. Little Trinket had been left behind for a couple of seconds, and Louis, without meaning to, had jerked her leash. She was an adorable tiny Shih Tzu who wasn't accustomed to this rough treatment.

As soon as Higgins, the Great Dane was obediently back at his side, Louis scooped Trinket up.

"I'm sorry, liitle one. We've gotta watch that big bruiser and his exuberance, yeah?" Trinket, forever forgiving, and never having met a person she didn't like, because after all, _everyone _loved her, wagged her tail and licked Louis' face. He was one of her favorite people in her entire small world.

Louis sighed, but with palpable contentment, and walked on. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever even pondered being a dog walker. A _dog walker,_ of all things. But that's what he was. Financial analyst making mega bucks, to dog walker, all in the space of a few months.

_But he was happy._

Louis was young-only 29, but he'd been exposed to more than your average young man by a mile. He'd been an over-achiever, and had been one of the youngest financial analysts around. Graduating early from high school, and then finishing college in three years, then getting his degree in finance in record time, he'd gotten his four years of work experience in, and by then, had proved himself.

Living here in Hollywood was . . . well, _interesting._ There were more descriptive words, but, coming from Louis' sometimes unfiltered mouth, they'd also be rather indelicate. Hollyweird, they called it. And for good reason. He'd seen stranger things here than anywhere else he'd ever been, and it was on a consistent, daily basis. People here were never, ever _normal_, by most other's standards.

People sashayed about in various costumes, looking to make money by having their photograph taken with tourists, others walking along and singing at the top of their lungs for no discernible reason, a young man doing cartwheels, and leaping into the air, doing a full somersault mid-air while crossing an intersection; and here were some of the wildest clothes and hairstyles you'd find anywhere in the country.

Hollywood was his home, and it wasn't half bad. It was always entertaining, if nothing else. A person could simply sit and people-watch all day and never be bored for a second. Of course, there was the occasional movie star you might run into if they weren't in disguise. And if you were so inclined, that was a perk. People who lived in Hollywood just generally had a different mindset. In some ways, it was like living on a different planet.

And dog walkers were paid well. Not as well as a financial analyst, but surprisingly better than many jobs. Hell, Louis got thirty dollars to walk a dog for an hour. He often-in fact, most of the time-took more than one dog. Three to five was pretty average. For five dogs, that meant $150 an hour. How many people made that kind of money at most jobs? The dogs that had to be walked alone because they were intent on attacking other dogs, were charged fifty an hour. Louis tried to avoid them when he could. They were a pain in the ass, and also cost him money he could be making by walking several mellow dogs. So, overall, it was a lot more profitable to walk several at a time. And Louis had it down to a science. All his clients had their particular time of the day that they had booked his services, and lately he was even having to turn people away because he only worked five hours a day, and didn't work weekends.

Louis was uber popular because he was efficient, was strict about safety measures, and it was clear to clients that he loved dogs. It wasn't fake or artificial. He truly adored them; it was pretty apparent. And word spread fast. All of his contacts were through word of mouth. He'd only needed to advertise for the first few weeks.

"Come on, Chester! This isn't the time to sniff!" he growled at the Pointer that had his nose buried in a bush. The last walkee, Tiffany was a Sheltie, who never did a thing wrong. She trotted right beside Louis, adjusting her speed precisely to match his pace, always looking like a regal little queen, tail waving pleasantly, and breathtaking with her long, silky hair and big brown doe-like eyes. The epitomy of gentle and mild. Louis gazed down at her affectionately.

"Your name should've been Princess or sommat like that. You're so bloody cute and well behaved. If all me dogs were like you, me job would be a walk in the park, lass." Louis chuckled at his own joke, because, speaking of "walk in the park," Louis crossed the street to the dog park.

Louis kept an eye on his cell phone to be sure he was running on time. After this bunch, Matilda was next, and she had to be walked with Horace, as they were both senior citizens, and couldn't move as fast as his younger charges. Louis was never late; that was another reason he was a favored walker, and it was a reputation he intended to keep.

Some people only wanted their dogs walked a few days a week, but it didn't matter—he had no trouble filling in empty slots. He actually had a waiting list.

"Okay, we have half an hour left, lads and lasses," he announced. "Then we'll have to head back."

After seeing to it that there would be no dog fights, as the dogs at the park right now were, gratefully, all laid back and friendly, Louis let Higgins the Great Dane loose in the section intended for large breeds, and the little ones in the other section that was labeled for small breeds. There was a fence between that Louis could easily scale if need be. Higgins was making friends with a husky, so Louis stayed with the three smaller canines, watching them romp, bark and rejoice in their freedom. One eye on them, and the other on Higgins.

A young woman was there with her Pomeranian, and noticed Louis immediately. Louis could feel her eyes on him. Shit. What was it about women? They seemed to be drawn to him. He could understand it back when he held the corporate job, as they knew he made the bucks from the way he dressed, the car he drove, and the expensive briefcase he had carried.

But here he was, in a dog park, in a graphic t-shirt, jeans that had seen better days, and walk-worn tennis shoes with no socks. His dog walking clothes. He'd found out the hard way that you don't wear new or expensive clothes when you walk dogs unless you wanted drool slopped all over them, or worse, if you had a leg-lifter that fancied using you as a fire hydrant. And stepping in dog poop was inevitable sooner or later.

So what was the appeal? He didn't have long to mull it over, as here she came, using the dogs he'd brought with him as a conversation starter. Convenient.

"Oh, how cute!" she gushed, bending down to pet Trinket, Tiffany and Chester. Her Pomeranian barked non-stop in a very shrill type of screech—very grating on the nerves, but apparently she was immune to it because she didn't even appear to hear it.

"This one isn't a small breed," she said of Chester, the Pointer.

"Well, he's not a large breed either. I reckon he's mid-size, so that's why he's in this section," explained Louis.

"Oh, but he should be in the large breed section," she countered. "I think anyone would agree."

He felt like snapping at her, telling her to mind her own business. But that was the old Louis. The new Louis would never be that rude. He was trying to change his prickly, irritable ways, and it was a hard road, but he was smoothing his sharp edges off slowly but surely.

He was no longer pressed for time and bound by deadlines. No longer being treated like somebody running an assembly line, expected to move faster and be more productive, no matter how fast he was already moving. No more sixteen-hour days, with no time for any kind of outside life. No dating, no entertainment such as a simple movie, no life at all, really, outside of his cubicle existence, solely because he was just too tired to do anything but sleep when not at work. The phone had never stopped ringing, either at work or at home; someone was always sticking their head around the corner, wondering when that report would be ready, and the endless meetings . . . he'd hardly had time to eat most days.

After only a bit over a year of it, he'd burned out completely. Some people have the temperament for it, and some did not. It was taking a toll on his health. His doctor had warned him that, while it may be great to make tons of money, he would pay for it in the long run. Corporate employees were at extremely high risk for heart attacks and strokes among many other health issues. Yes, even at his young age.

So he'd made a major life decision when he had decided to quit that lifestyle and learn to _live_ again. And, so far, he wasn't one bit sorry. He loved dogs, he liked to exercise—and walking being an excellent form of it made the job ideal. And he did actually like the dogs' owners—well, most of the time. There were some overbearing ones, some quite eccentric ones too, but after being a financial analyst, he knew how to deal with people, how to placate them and smooth ruffled feathers. He also occasionally pet sat for people when they were away from home for a few days or even a week or two.

The girl was checking him out quite overtly. Her eyes roved over his physique, and they lit up as if she was planning on trying to win the big prize.

"So you have four dogs?" she asked.

"No, I'm a dog walker," explained Louis. He was used to frequent and prying questions when he was seen with several dogs—sometimes up to six, on the end of leashes.

"As a hobby?" she asked.

"No, professionally."

"Part time? I mean, what's your regular job?" she persisted.

"This. This is me only job."

"Get out!" she cried. "You mean to tell me you walk dogs for a _living?"_

She definitely looked dubious now.

"Yes, for a livin.'"

All he wanted to do was wander around with the dogs, enjoy the day and be left alone. He wasn't unfriendly, or opposed to pleasant conversation, but he knew what this girl was after. _Him._ And he wasn't interested. Not in the least. Not that she wasn't attractive, because she was. Very. But he was gay, and he didn't fancy having to explain it to every girl who approached him. It was no one's business anyway. Any road, it was a dreadful situation.

So he usually just told relentless women that he had a girlfriend. This one, though, was shifty and sly. He could read her like a book. She wasn't interested in whether he had a significant other or not. She was after his body, and she didn't care if he was attached or spoken for. He knew the type—he was exposed to them all the time. They were bold and unshakable, and you had to hurt their feelings before they would withdraw. And he didn't relish having to do that.

"My name's Brooke. What're you doing after this?" she gestured to the dogs bounding about. Bold, indeed.

"I have lots of others to walk today," he said evasively, hoping she'd get the hint, but knowing she wouldn't. Truth was, he only had the two older dogs, and then after that, another three dogs that could be walked at the same time, and he'd be done for the day.

She was wearing a tank top and short shorts. She had long wavy golden brown hair, and big eyes that propositioned him even when she didn't speak. Most guys would jump right on it, but she didn't afford a second glance from him. She looked a little bewildered at his lack of intrigue, but figured he'd come around. He supposed she liked challenge. Just his luck.

Her eyes continued to wander up and down his body, openly appreciating his tan, his muscled legs, his biceps that were defined from the weight lifting he did a few times a week, his handsome face, his ocean blue eyes. Her big mistake was not realizing he truly was disenchanted and definitely disinterested.

"Well, since you're busy today, how about another day? Coffee or something?" She scribbled her name and cell number on the back of a bank deposit slip she pulled out of her purse and handed to him.

He took the paper out of courtesy, stuffing it into his pocket, and planning to ditch it in the nearest trash can on his way to take his present dogs back to their respective homes.

"Your name?" she asked, nonplussed that he hadn't offered the information.

"Louis."

"Okay Louis. Talk to you soon! And by the way, I _looooove_ your English accent!" she gushed as Louis nodded and walked slowly away, toward his client's dogs, smiling and waving as pleasantly as he could manage.

He left a little earlier than he wanted to, because Brooke was still hanging out at the dog park, her furry Pomeranian still yapping, making him desperately want to escape. He'd just walk the dogs a little farther before getting them home exactly on time.

Higgins proved almost impossible to catch, and he felt he was making a spectacle of himself as he chased, dipped and dove to grab the dog's collar, finally resorting to tackling the big brute as he galloped by. It was really quite impressive when all was said and done. Several people even cheered and clapped.

Finally, all four dogs captured and trotting by his side, he left the dog park, feeling like there had to be someone out there who would like him for _himself._ Not the corporate finance guy he'd been, or for how he looked, or how fuckable he supposedly was. Just for him. Someone who wanted to know all about him, his favorite foods, what he dreamed about at night, what he liked to do. Someone who liked him simply for his personality, his sense of humor. Okay, so there wasn't much sense of humor yet, but he was working on it. He needed to stop being so dry and sarcastic.

And that special someone couldn't know about his background, or he'd be right back where he'd started. They'd want to know how much money he'd made, what high falutin' parties he'd been to, what kind of clout he'd had. He wanted a real life romance with someone who wasn't impressed with all that bullshit. That wasn't looking for a sugar daddy. He wanted to be desired on his own personal merits, and that didn't include the job he'd once had or how much was in his bank account.

You never knew who was real in the corporate world, or who was trying to get something from you. It was all so . . . fake. Those who appeared to be your friends might just be trying to pick up hints from you on how to make it big. People used you, and once they got what they wanted, they kicked you aside. It was all about getting ahead, and to hell with who they walked all over to get there. He was sick of it.

He had begun to wonder if there were any genuine people left in the business world, or the world period. In fact, he was suspicious of just about anyone he crossed paths with. And it had made him into a sour, temperamental, inflexible person who was jaded and intolerant in general. And he hated that about himself. He was determined to change it.

He strove now to amend his attitude, and hoped he'd meet sincere people who accepted him for what he was—a dog walker, a nice person, and a loyal companion. Because he sure hadn't found that at his old job. And if people knew he was a dog walker and still liked him, he wouldn't have to worry about judgment from shallow individuals in disguise.

Taking his charges back to their homes, he finished the remaining jobs for the day, and two hours later, he was free. It was one pm. Not bad, and only half a day's work, if you wanted to call walking dogs work, which he didn't. Not really. He found it invigorating, and the exercise certainly was beneficial. His legs had beefed up, and he had more energy in general.

Walking back to his apartment, he sat down with a beer and lunch—a salami sandwich with store bought potato salad, and realized he really did need to start eating more healthy to compliment the exercise. Mint chocolate chip ice cream was his favorite, and he found himself indulging in it two or three times a week. He supposed all the walking was working it off, as he hadn't gained any weight. But he was getting older, and he might not have the luxury of eating whatever he wanted for much longer. Before it caught up to him, and he ended up with a beer belly. He'd never find a boyfriend then.

Sometimes, he got terribly, miserably bored. He longed for someone to hang out with; someone who found him interesting and would hold a lively two-way conversation. Something that had nothing to do with the stock market or any kind of finances. An intelligent interchange. Someone who would stimulate his mind. He was also tired of people who only cared about the conversation if it centered on themselves. He'd loved it if someone asked his opinion, instead of always finding himself asking them about _their_ lives, how _they_ felt about things, disregarding his own feelings.

He might be abrasive and grumpy at times because of his previous job, but he knew that, in order to try to live a normal life now, that he'd have to find friends that weren't full of themselves, arrogant and pompous. There were people out there that were like that—there had to be. But he had yet to make any friends because no one had proved to him that they had no ulterior motives. Not that he told that many people about his former job, but he was so gun-shy that he withdrew from friendship out of habit. His fear was real. In a way, he supposed he was damaged goods. He would overcome it though. One thing he excelled at was determination.

He'd thought about going to one of the many gay bars here in Hollywood and Los Angeles, but he wasn't after quick sex in a bathroom or alleyway. And that was usually all you found in a bar. Especially a gay one. Meeting people who were decent and respectable was harder than one would think. He had to face it—he was lonely. His childhood friends were all in England, and the few friends he'd made here had moved away or ghosted on him when he had gotten the "dream job." If only they knew! Now, for the first time in years, he actually had spare time, but no one to spend it with.

He flicked on the telly, but nothing caught his attention. He was restless, and decided to get a few things at the grocery store. He opened cupboards, writing down what he needed on his running list. He called it taking inventory. He loved lists, and felt lost without them. They offered him a strange sense of security.

Slipping his sunnies on, getting into his car, which, by the way, was no longer a Mercedes, but a classic '66 Mustang GT, he hit Stater Brothers. When he'd picked up what he needed, he had half a cartful, and wondered how long it would last. Quite a while. His was a single person household, and he had no friends to come over and raid the fridge for snacks; no pets, no kids. His family was in England. He really_ did_ lead a dull life, he reflected as he waited in line. He wasn't worried about how long the groceries would last anyway—he had more than enough money in the bank to get as many as he wanted, as often as he wanted. He just liked to calculate in his mind how much he spent on different things each month. Obviously his overanalytical thinking process hadn't slowed down a bit. Another thing to work on.

A guy was in line ahead of him. At first glance, from the back, he'd thought it was a girl. A very tall girl. Probably close to six feet. The long, dark, thick and curly hair was so impressive that it looked like it had required some major curling iron time. But when the person turned to face the cashier, he saw it was a guy. A guy with a baby face, startlingly green eyes, and when he smiled, an arresting dimple that made Louis feel like he'd been kicked in the chest by a horse. It caused the breath to lodge in Louis' throat.

Louis tried not to gawk, he really did. But turning his head away, or even his eyes, seemed an impossibility. It was a contradiction, but against his will, he wanted to keep staring. He wanted to keep drinking this guy in for at least the next eight hours. He couldn't look enough.

Then, for some reason, the guy turned his head and glanced at him. All Louis could do was continue to stare, because he physically could not do anything else. He felt as if he was made of stone. He wasn't even aware of the fact that he looked just like how he felt—as if he was in some kind of spellbound trance . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Louis came out of his trance almost groggily to see the guy was smiling at him. Now he was totally immersed in suffocating embarrassment. How humiliating. How degrading. The guy had caught him staring, and seemed to be amused by it. But his face showed no trace of jest or mockery. Just amused acceptance. His smile was soft, with no malice. Perhaps the guy was just being nice, polite. It was possible, Louis reminded himself. Not everyone on the planet was out to ridicule him.

And damn it, now that the guy's face was turned toward him, there was the _other_ dimple! As if one hadn't been enough on this scorching hot specimen. Louis couldn't remember ever being this attracted to someone. It jolted him.

As the cashier offered to hand him his change, the guy turned his attention back to her, pocketed the change, and, with a smile and a sexy, low pitched voice, he thanked her, then strolled out of the store, glancing back one more time at Louis before he exited the automatic glass door. His shirt was open about halfway, the buttons left open on purpose (?) or was it an oversight?

_Oh my God! He's looking at me again!_

Louis, now almost panting, sweating, began to load his groceries from the cart onto the belt, realizing he should have started doing it way before this. He shook his head at how obvious he had been. The cashier also looked out of sorts, but that was probably because he had been so busy looking at the beautiful stranger that he'd totally neglected his groceries, and she was wondering what the hold-up was. The heat of embarrassment crawled up his neck. She had seen him making a fool of himself.

When the groceries were loaded onto the belt and she began scanning them, she reached up to her face, dramatically pretending to wipe sweat off her brow.

"Whew! That one was a looker!" she said with emphasis, gazing out at the parking lot as if trying to get one last glimpse of him.

Louis smiled, but he found himself—against his will, also looking out at the parking lot, and getting lucky enough to see the guy driving off in a black Range Rover, his long hair being gently tousled by the breeze caused by his partially open window, making him look all the more alluring. Together, Louis and the cashier studied the guy as the vehicle passed by the front window. It lasted all of about three seconds, but it left them both dazed.

If Louis hadn't been so enthralled, he would have found it quite comical. The cashier was at least fifty; maybe older. But the young man had the kind of presence that every woman, young, middle-aged or old couldn't help but take notice of.

_Every gay man too,_ thought Louis.

Louis and the cashier's eyes met again, and she half-laughed at her lapse in composure.

"Sorry about that," she said bashfully, "but that one really knocked my socks off!"

Louis let the laugh out this time, but he made sure he was giving the impression that he was laughing at _her _reaction, being careful not to give anything away about how he, himself, felt.

"It's all good," he said as casually as he could, considering his fragile state of mind.

"Is that an English accent I hear?" she asked.

Louis nodded. He got this all the time. Americans seemed to be fascinated by a British accent.

"Well, if that isn't a funny coincidence! The guy that just left had one too! What are the odds?"

Louis was bewildered. That _was _odd. He hardly ever ran across anyone with an English accent here.

Oh well. He did wish he'd been able to hear the guy talk to try to find out what part of England he was from. All he'd really heard was a low rumble. What did it matter though? He'd probably never see him again anyway.

"I reckon it's unusual alright, yeah?"

"Sure is!" The woman looked almost as if she was about to swoon, madly fanning herself with a magazine as she took Louis' check. As he grabbed his bags, he asked if she was alright. He wasn't altogether sure if she was serious, or just joking around.

"Oh, I'm fine. It'll just take me a few moments to get over that hunk!"

Louis laughed again and strode back out into the sunshine to his Mustang, putting his groceries into the boot. What was he going to do with the rest of the day now? No sense in taking a nap. He got plenty of sleep as it was. Just a few more blocks and he'd be home, and he was almost dreading it. Coming home to hollow silence was so depressing.

He looked up just in time to see a black Range Rover parked in front of the thrift store. It couldn't be _his,_ could it? There wasn't any shortage of black Range Rovers around town, so why did he even think that? But then he saw someone get out of the vehicle and raise the bonnet.

_Holy shit! It was him!_

The guy was feeling around under there, a concentrated frown on his face. On a sudden whim, Louis, curious now, swung into the parking lot, and almost before he knew what he was doing, he'd parked his Mustang a few spaces over, having a lot of choices, as the parking lot didn't have more than half a dozen parked cars. After all, the guy didn't know what kind of car he drove, and his windows were tinted, so the guy wouldn't be able to see him clearly. Louis could sit there and watch to see what transpired without being suspected of being a stalker. And he did, in a disturbing way, kind of feel like one.

The guy got back into the Rover after a couple of minutes and tried to turn it over. All Louis heard was a click. Ah, either the battery or the alternator was on the blink. Probably the battery. He had jumper cables in his car at all times, but he hesitated to offer help.

The guy had caught him staring at him, and he might get the wrong idea. If the guy knew he was gay—and he probably did from the way Louis had looked at him, he would likely feel very uncomfortable if Louis were to show his face again.

But then, he couldn't just drive away and leave him there, stranded. Really unlikely he was stranded though, as these days, everyone had a cell phone. Still . . . this was the perfect opportunity that was being handed to him.

Just the thought of approaching him and asking if he needed help made Louis feel all quivery on the inside. Not a good quivery, but a very anxious quivery. Kind of like the way he felt before going to the dentist.

Okay, now the guy had lifted his cell phone and was about to call someone. It was now or never. Otherwise, someone else was going to come rescue the prince. And, for some reason, Louis wanted that job.

Nerves threatening to overtake him, Louis yanked his car door open before he could think about it for one more second. He stepped out of the car, and saw the guy turn his head toward him, a surprised, unguarded look on his pretty features.

Louis smiled and forced himself to walk toward the Rover. The guy smiled back. Well, that was a good sign. The guy slipped his cell back into his pocket.

"Y'Alright mate? Need some help?" asked Louis brightly, schooling his expression to appear relaxed and casual, like this wasn't one of the most intimidating things he'd ever done in his life. The effect this had on him was hard to believe. He'd faced the most difficult clients you could imagine; some real hard asses in the corporate business world. Stood right up to them like he was the shit, never backing down, and giving as good as he got, yet this stranger made his insides turn to cream of wheat.

The partially open window allowed the guy to say, "Yeah, I'd appreciate that." Then he exited the driver's door and walked around the Rover, heading for Louis. The time it took the guy to negotiate the short distance seemed to take ages as time lagged; everything seemed in slow motion to Louis. He felt the burn of embarrassment again in his neck, ears and cheeks, and knew they had to be coloring up. All he could think of was how the guy had caught him staring at him.

They met in the middle, between the cars. Quickly, Louis started to talk. "I saw you under the bonnet as I parked here to go in the thrift store, and then I saw you try to start it. I have jumper cables if you reckon the battery's the problem."

"Hey, you've got a Yorkshire accent!" was the guy's response.

"Yeah, Donny," acknowledged Louis.

"I was born in Manchester, grew up in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire," said the stranger, and Louis noticed he spoke slowly, deliberately, and his voice reminded Louis of sultry sex.

_What? He couldn't be thinking this way if he wanted to make a good impression._

What really mystified him was _why _he wanted to make a good impression. He didn't even know the guy.

Louis rushed back to his Mustang and took the jumper cables from the boot, making himself as busy as possible.

"Nice wheels!" exclaimed the gorgeous stranger. "I love classic cars."

"Thanks," Louis wished he could think of more to say, but he was seriously tongue-tied.

"Oh, me name's Harry, by the way," the guy offered.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Louis." They shook hands then, and Louis was falling apart. Piece by piece. Just from shaking the guy's fucking hand. Harry's hand was big, warm and not clammy like Louis was sure his was. And he had a firm, reassuring grip.

Louis knew he had to get a hold of himself. The fickle way he was feeling was bizarre, unfamiliar and very unsettling.

Harry. The guy didn't look like a Harry. He looked more like a Bryce, Jaden, or maybe a Dominic. Some fitting name for a beautiful model.

"Nice meetin' you too, Louis," Harry returned, grinning tentatively, but thank God, not enough to show his dimples. That would have done Louis in.

Louis arranged the cables in his hands and approached Harry's Rover.

"It's the battery alright," Harry confirmed, before Louis could inquire. "Been meanin' to get one at Pep Boys, but keep forgettin.'"

He blushed just a little bit, as if he was feeling guilty about it, and that just added to the enchantment Louis was feeling.

"Raise the bonnet, and I'll bring my car 'round," he instructed, sounding way too brusque to his own ears. But it was the only way he could keep from melting at this guy's adorableness. He saw Harry's bewildered look as he turned to get into his Mustang. He hadn't meant to sound so terse, but it was just self-preservation. He didn't trust people, so he had to be all business.

He would _kill _to have this Harry in his life though. Not just for his looks either. The guy was mannerly and soft spoken. Seemed very even tempered. But Louis had learned the hard way not to let people in. They could abandon you, try to control you, expect things from you. All kinds of things.

They got the Rover started quickly, and Louis knew he should offer to follow Harry to Pep Boys and make sure he got a new battery so this wouldn't happen to him again. But at the same time, Louis wouldn't allow himself to. Harry must have plenty of friends that he could call if he got into a bind again. Besides, he could be setting himself up to be used and/or abused. And he didn't need that in his life.

"_Thank you,"_ gushed Harry as he leaned up against his Rover and Louis returned the cables to his car boot. "You didn't have to, you know."

Louis didn't know what to do with this. Harry seemed sincere all the way through, but Louis wasn't an idiot. He knew the guy could be a master manipulator. With his looks, Louis bet he got away with a lot of shit.

"I need me Rover to get to band practice," Harry said to fill the sudden silence.

Louis glanced in the front seat of Harry's Rover and saw some shirts that he assumed the guy had gotten from the thrift store. He didn't seem poor though. The Rover wasn't an inexpensive vehicle. Harry was dressed nicely too. Maybe he was just frugal. Whatever . . .

"You're welcome. Well, take it easy." Louis turned on his heel and marched back to his Mustang, afraid to let the conversation continue. He had a feeling he could get attached to this guy much too quick.

"Oh, um, like, I'd like to pay you back . . . in a small way." Harry's soft, soothing voice carried over to him on a light breeze right before Louis closed the door of the car. Well, he'd _almost _gotten away.

"Do you like Starbucks?" asked Harry.

Louis_ loved_ Starbucks. And he'd just turned a girl down at the dog park who wanted to go out for coffee. But Harry, well, he was totally tempting, and so Louis hesitated. That was his mistake. Harry grabbed the opportunity.

"Are you free tomorrow about this time?" asked Harry.

Actually, he was. He was done working by one most days.

"Uh, I don't think it's a good idea," resisted Louis.

"Why not? It's just coffee, and I really do want to show me appreciation."

Man, if Harry had been talking sex, Louis would have been massively salivating. A lot of things that came out of the guy's mouth sounded suggestive, although Louis could tell he didn't mean it that way at all. It was just that he was so amazingly attractive that Louis had a hard time keeping his head on straight. And his mind out of the gutter.

"Well, I don't know . . . okay. Which one?" Louis' head was spinning. He sure hadn't put up much of a fight! He was appalling himself with his own behavior.

"The one on Hollywood and Highland?" asked Harry, leaving the door open for Louis to state another preference. The Starbucks Harry mentioned was nearby, which made Louis wonder if Harry lived near this area, or if he was simply trying to make things convenient for Louis.

"Yeah, I guess that's fine."

See you there at about one-thirty? I'll be done with band practice by then."

"Uh, I guess so." Louis dragged himself onto the seat of his car, feeling a little numb.

Harry waved happily at him, and he half-assed waved back, speeding off without looking back.

Okay, this was problematic. Harry might be gay, and he might not. He could just be a very friendly person to everyone. He seemed the type. He was so appreciative and charming, as if he'd been raised that way. So Louis could definitely _not_ get the wrong idea, or assume anything.

He wasn't ready for a relationship anyway. He needed to sit back and take stock of his new life. He'd only been at it a few months. That wasn't enough time to find himself. He really didn't want to date yet. With his history, bad luck seemed to be around every corner.

And this Harry guy was apparently a musician. Musicians got a lot of attention. And probably propositions aplenty by both sexes. Especially when they looked like Harry.

Wrong, wrong. Everything about it sounded suspect. Now he wished to God he hadn't accepted the offer. Why would Harry take a shine to _him,_ of all people? He was a nobody dog walker, for God's sake! Was there an ulterior motive? All Louis had done was to give him a jump. It wasn't as if he'd saved his life or anything.

_Tomorrow! Sweet Jesus! _

He would have almost no time at all to think this over. And . . . he comprehended in that moment—no way to cancel! He didn't have the guy's phone number.

He could just not show up. But that was totally inconsiderate, and Harry didn't really deserve that kind of treatment. _If_ he was who he appeared to be, that was. He was about the most non-threatening person Louis had ever met. If he was anything else, Louis reflected, then he was one hell of an actor.

What would he wear? How would he approach Harry? Casually? More friendly than today? Suspiciously? Yeah, suspicious would work. He had to stay on his toes. The corporate world he'd come from was cut-throat. Get them before they get you was the general thinking. Don't give them the opportunity to take advantage.

It seemed ludicrous to be as distrustful as he was being, but you couldn't let your guard down, because that was precisely when someone would pull something on you.

Louis dozed that night for maybe a total of three hours. He was glad to walk his morning charges to have something to do instead of count the hours until he was to meet Harry. What the hell had he gotten himself into, anyway? Maybe Harry wanted to rob him. If that was the case, he was in for a rude awakening. Louis let _no one _intimidate him or threaten him, let alone, actually commit a crime against him. Not as long as he was conscious, anyway. Still, he had a vague sense of unease throughout the morning.

Louis became increasingly restless as one-thirty arrived. He pulled into the Starbuck's parking lot exactly five minutes late. It wasn't that he wasn't aware of the time, but, immaturely, he supposed, he felt more in control if he was late. He would show this Harry dude who was in charge!

The black Rover was there, and Harry sat in the back, the hatch raised, with his long legs dangling down and swinging slightly. He didn't look nervous at all, really, and for that, Louis envied him. But of course he wouldn't. He was just repaying a favor, Louis reminded himself.

Louis parked in the first available spot closest to Harry and took his time exiting the car. Harry was just rounding the back of Louis' car as Louis stepped out. Harry was admiring his car. He got stares all the time, people offering to buy it, and remarking on how clean it was. It better be. It had cost him a mint to keep it up to the standard of the way it was when he'd bought it.

"Hey, Louis. What is this color, midnight blue?" asked Harry.

Louis nodded. "That it is." He schooled himself to appear off hand and disinterested. There was no script, and Louis didn't want to appear like he had rehearsed for this in any way. He wanted Harry to think he didn't give a damn. People can only hurt you if you let them. Most of all, he tried to ignore Harry's looks and mannerisms.

It wasn't easy though. Harry's green eyes had turned a mint color, and were dazzling in the soothing California sun, his long dark brown wavy hair shone with a rare gloss, his naturally quite pink lips were full and pouty, his teeth white and straight. Again, he wore a shirt that was half un-buttoned, and Louis came to the conclusion that he regularly dressed that way. It hadn't just been a one-time thing at the grocery store.

It was strange too. Most men who wore shirts un-buttoned like that were vain and attention-seeking. Harry was anything but. But . . . it was a dress shirt this time, and he wore a blazer over it, khakis and Chelsea boots. Had he worn this to his music practice? Louis doubted it. A blazer? Come on!

Louis had worn a simple black tee shirt and fairly new jeans, and he'd remembered to wear socks with his trainers. And he for sure hadn't donned a damn blazer!

Harry seemed to like fashion, as he also wore a nice leather braided rope bracelet that was at least two inches wide on his left wrist. It had fancy turquoise designs, and was classic yet stylish. It looked good on him. He also wore a matching necklace that boasted a tiger's eye. Louis couldn't stop devouring him with his eyes.

Harry abruptly slipped his blazer off and laid it in the back of his Rover. "Guess I don't need this for a cuppa, yeah?" he said, his face blushing a soft pink. Louis was still wondering why he'd had it on in the first place. But he didn't ask—it wasn't his business.

"Not a cuppa tea, but a cuppa coffee?" Louis' blue gaze twinkled just a little bit.

"I'm Americanized enough now to enjoy coffee," was Harry's answer. Louis agreed with a nod.

Inside, Harry left Louis at a corner table with a cushy, comfortable couch while he went to order their drinks. He insisted Louis stay seated. All Starbucks were basically the same, but for some odd reason this one seemed just a little cozier in Louis' eyes. It was more homey, more comfortable and conducive to feel-good conversation.

Louis studied Harry as he stood in line. Harry's back was to him, so there was no danger of being seen by those fascinating green eyes. The lad seemed docile and innocuous enough, but Louis had learned to stay alert and watch a person's mannerisms for possible clues to not-so-good intentions. He hadn't detected anything yet, but he feared Harry's appearance and innocent conduct could be misleading.

He was suspicious of everyone, it was true. He found himself not_ wanting_ to be leery of Harry though. His instincts told him the guy was just a friendly, easy going, and perhaps, lonely person, like himself.

That brought him back to Harry's comment about music practice though. Someone in music is generally not lonely. Not unless they want to be, or are mistrustful in general.

_Oh stop it, Tomlinson! Why make a big production out of having coffee with the bloke?_

Analyzing everything—that was what he'd been trained to do, and now he couldn't seem to shake it. It touched every area of his life and took the joy out of this simple attempt to have a quiet few minutes to sit back and unwind with companionable conversation. Why did he have to always get so wound up and overthink things? To his frustration, his high strung nature always ruled supreme.

Harry set their cups down carefully, warning Louis that they were hot.

"You think?" sarcasm tinged Louis' voice. He hated the sharpness of his tongue that was always present at a moment's notice, to the point of pushing people away.

Harry looked perplexed, but didn't comment.

"So . . . um . . . what do you do?" Harry asked after a few moments.

Louis looked up after sipping his coffee. "I walk dogs. I'm a dog walker." He felt he should just say it, get it out of the way, even though he got the weirdest reactions every time. Better not to lie about what he did, even though he and Harry weren't friends, or even hardly acquaintances.

Harry's eyes went wide, and he stopped all movement for a second or so. Louis idly wondered why.

_Why? Is it that weird?_ Louis was thinking. He might be eccentric for walking dogs, but he viewed Harry as more eccentric.

"A dog walker? Oh . . . I'm, um . . . not really fond of dogs." Harry said in a hesitant voice. An odd hint of misgiving colored his words.

Now that one really got Louis' attention. A kind, friendly, considerate guy like Harry wasn't fond of dogs? It just didn't set right somehow. That type of person usually had an affinity for animals. Curiously, Louis felt anger welling up. Vaguely, he wondered why he was reacting so strongly. It was a knee-jerk response that he couldn't seem to tamp down.

Before he blew up, he slid off his seat and stood briskly.

Bracing his hands on the table, he growled, "You know what?" as he hovered over Harry menacingly.

"If you aren't an animal lover, or at least, LIKER, I don't think I wanna associate with you."

Louis hadn't even known he felt this passionately about the subject, to be honest. He caught a glimpse of Harry's open mouth, attempting to speak the way people do when startled and not sure what they should say, but he headed for the door, leaving his coffee all but untouched.

Louis decided to ignore Harry's effort to explain himself. Without waiting for Harry to stammer something out, and not really caring anyway, he flounced out the door, into the parking lot, getting into his car, and peeling out slightly as he left in a flurry.


	3. Chapter 3

Stricken and a little bit stunned, Harry watched in disbelief as the midnight blue Mustang disappeared, finding it hard to accept the fact that Louis had just dismissed him, left so quickly, and that he, himself, hadn't been able to get a single word out of his mouth to try to stop him. He hadn't known that what he'd said would have that effect, and worse, he hadn't had a ghost of a chance to amend it. He could have run after him, but much as he hated to admit it, he feared rejection. Not to mention he'd look really stupid scrambling after him. If only Louis had given him a chance to explain . . .

Louis was livid, and not really sure why. But after cooling off and thinking about it for a while at home, he came to the conclusion that he really didn't trust people who didn't like animals. And there was nothing wrong with that. But what bothered him after the fact was that Harry had tried to say something, and he hadn't even paused to listen. Now he found himself wondering what it might have been that Harry had wanted to say.

He had such a barrier erected against the world that it was beginning to bear down on him, isolating him and growing into an even bigger, stronger blockade. It was limiting him, causing him to withdraw. To the point to where he wouldn't even stay to hear someone out if he heard the slightest clue of something he didn't like. Maybe this was why he'd had the feeling of unease before meeting Harry there? He didn't like the idea of letting people in.

Well, he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. It was fine if Harry didn't like animals; it was Harry's choice, and it was also a good thing he'd found out about it now rather than later. He didn't need a "friend" like that.

Even so, he felt a little sick to his stomach that he'd walked out on Harry like that.

The next morning he went to fetch Shortcake, another of his favorite walkees. He was a miniature fox terrier, spry and hyper as fox terriers were famous (or infamous) for, wanting to leap around, chase cats, and barking too much if Louis didn't keep on him about it. He was always a handful, and especially when Louis had other dogs. Nevertheless, Louis admired his spunk. Today a couple owners had canceled for whatever reasons that Louis couldn't process or even remember because he was distracted, and he'd had to juggle—calling a couple of other owners to see if they minded if he took their dogs a little earlier today. No sense in walking only one dog at a time if you could walk several. If It worked out, he'd be done at noon. A new record. He never pushed people to change their schedule, just checked in with them to see if a temporary change would inconvenience them.

It didn't, and Louis had five dogs to walk. Everything went well until Shortcake decided to growl at Duke, who took no shit from anyone. The other dogs that were along for the walk got along fine with Duke because they didn't challenge him. But, having the fierce, fearless personality of a terrier, Shortcake figured he could take on Duke, even though Duke was a German Shepherd and outweighed him by about four times.

Duke curled his lip at Shortcake in warning. Louis quickly adjusted their leashes, and therefore, their positions. But even though they were separated, Shortcake wanted to take care of what he considered unfinished business. He was itching for a fight. Louis had to finagle things so the two didn't come within a couple of feet of each other. Louis was experienced, fast and efficient.

At the dog park, with Duke in one section and Shortcake and the other dogs in the other, Louis could finally relax a bit. Thoughts of yesterday invited themselves in to play with Louis' mind. Had he been unfeeling, harsh? Of course he had, but there was a very valid reason. And he'd stated that reason to Harry before he'd left. He'd done the right thing. He hadn't just up and left with no explanation. So why should he be letting it gnaw away at him now?

Because he was disappointed. Harry had been a potential friend when he had none. Louis had broken all ties with the people from his former life, and now the only people he even talked to were his customers. The owners of the dogs he walked. How pitiful was that?

It was too bad Harry didn't like dogs, but Louis had learned to trust his instincts. It just wasn't meant to be. He'd find friends eventually, once he settled more into his new life. But just the same, he couldn't help feeling a trace of sadness.

Weeks went by, and Louis was kept busy. New clients wanted his services, so he decided he'd start extending his hours until two every day. Three or four more dogs would mean extra income, and he was saving his pennies for new tires for his car. The ones he had were overdue for replacement. Even though he had quite a bit of money in his bank account, he considered it reserved for an emergency. Sometimes he realized he was being over the top. Several hundred thousand in the bank, and he was worried about spending any on tires. It was safer to have new, reliable tires. Yet, Louis, with his stubborn temperament, preferred to wait until he could pay for the tires from dog walking money without touching any that was in the bank.

Due to his popularity, he was in a position to pick and choose his canine responsibilities, so he chose dogs that mixed well with others. Blackjack, who was a Lab, George, who was a Pug, Toasty, who was a Dachshund, and Katie, who was a medium sized mixed breed were examples. Fiery Shortcake was the exception.

Walking the dogs kept him busier, making the days seem a little shorter. The remainder of the afternoons after he was finished, and the long evenings seemed to stretch out forever, making Louis long for something that was a big, fat question mark. What, in fact, did he want? He'd gone from a bustling, exhausting, high pressure existence to this—a relatively easy, kick-back job that took a third of the hours his old job had of his daily life.

He wanted friends, or at least, one friend. And if he were to be totally honest, he also wanted love. He was tired of waiting, but he also didn't want to settle. He kept telling himself he had all the time in the world to make friends, or find a lover, but he'd already waited for so damn long. The entire time he'd worked as a financial analyst, he'd seen how money turned people into animals, had seen how ugly and greedy they could be, and he'd learned to mistrust them, and thus had not found anyone he found worthy of his friendship. He, himself, might not be the ideal friend for just anyone, but he, at least, wasn't a fraudster or swindler. He'd acted distant to people on purpose. That barrier had always been up, and was still secure and indestructible as ever.

Things were so different now, yet Louis remained the same cynical, overly cautious person. No one had ever even set foot in his apartment since he'd moved here.

Harry had been the antidote, he realized with a jolt. He'd been a breath of fresh air, as the saying went. A vastly different personality from anyone Louis had known in the corporate world. No agendas, no expectations. He just _was._ And he was perfectly happy for Louis to just_ be_ as well. Simple, sanguine, amiable and approachable. Perfect friend material. And Louis had just brushed him off like a fly.

No, better not to think about it. Chances were Harry would not make another appearance into his life, so it was best to just let it go.

After taking his walkees home, Louis went to pick up dinner for tonight. He loved KFC, and decided to indulge tonight. He had been eating pretty decently lately, and felt he deserved a reward. Deciding to eat it now for an early dinner because he was already starving, he lingered, watching families come and go, ordering family meals, discussing and arguing over which sides to get with their meals. Louis tried to fight off the feeling of envy. He'd like to have a family someday. His parents and relatives were all in England, and he'd always thought that, by the time he was the age he currently was, he'd have at least the beginnings of a family.

He was twenty-nine and didn't even have a significant other. Throwing his empty bags from his meal into the trash, his fingers greasy from the fried chicken, he felt dirty. It was as if he could feel the cholesterol circulating through his body. He hadn't been able to resist that good ole' original recipe. There was only one cure for that. The gym. He'd go work off the fat and grease.

He stopped by his apartment to get his work-out clothes, and with his membership card ready, he presented it and entered Gold's Gym. He worked extra hard out of guilt from eating the chicken, using more machines than he ever had before, and using them longer too. But the barbells were his go-to. He loved seeing his biceps get more defined as time went on. He already had very shapely thighs from all the football he'd played in England, and his butt was naturally full and round. _Perfect,_ he'd been told many times. And he didn't even have to work on it to keep it firm. Yeah, he'd take it.

By the time he left the gym, it was twilight already, and he marveled at how fast the day had gone. He needed to be active and involved in something more often. As he went to insert his key into the Mustang's driver door lock, someone suddenly rammed up against him from behind, pinning him against the Mustang and knocking the breath from his lungs. A very big, burly someone, from the feel of him. Easily twice as wide as Louis, and tall too. At least a head and a half taller than Louis' five -nine. Louis had parked in the back, and there was no one around to witness it in the impending darkness.

Big, beefy, corded arms wrapped around his middle, holding both of his wrists.

"Give me the money in yer wallet," the guy growled in a gruff, gravelly voice that broached no argument. Louis' blood instantly began to boil.

"Fuck no," he said menacingly.

"I know you got money, with a car like that." So the Mustang was the reason the guy was trying to rob him.

No one took advantage of Louis Tomlinson, his mind echoed.

"You're not getting' a fuckin' thing from me!" Louis tried to wrench himself away from the guy, or twist around to face him, but couldn't do either thing. The guy had to be made of steel. He didn't move an inch with all of Louis' furious struggles. And while Louis may not have been anywhere near this brute's size, he could still put up a good fight. When he was younger, his friends had always commented on his strength when they roughhoused. But right now, he was out of his league.

"You think you're gonna win? You must weigh all of 150 pounds. I weigh almost twice as much as you, ya fuckin' wimp!" the bruiser practically spat the words out. Louis was now using every ounce of strength he had, and was making absolutely no headway. He was so angry, the blood pounded in his temples. It didn't even occur to him to be afraid.

"I'll beat the shit outta you if ya don't give me yer wallet! And fast!" The guy began to grab at Louis' pockets.

Another voice cut through the evening air.

"Let him go, or I'll knock your fuckin' head in, then shoot ya in the balls afterward!" The voice was low and sinister. And very convincing.

The guy behind Louis stiffened immediately and grunted, backing slightly, then sliding sideways, away from Louis, moving faster than Louis figured a man his size was capable of. He slunk off briskly, murmuring, "Alright, alright, I'm goin.'" He disappeared around the building, toward the front of the gym, and Louis turned to see who the man with the low forbidding voice was.

He gasped. _Harry!_

"What the—" Louis started to speak, but Harry shoved him toward his car instead.

"Get outta here. Don't give him a chance to come back," warned the curly haired beauty. His face was all grave seriousness. He was holding something under his jacket, and Louis realized it must be a gun.

"You get in first!" Louis wasn't about to leave Harry here. He pushed Harry into the driver's side, forcing Harry to climb over the bucket seats to slide into the passenger seat because Louis didn't want to stay here even long enough for Harry to walk around the car to the passenger door. At this juncture, he just wanted to get the hell out of there, and _now._

He locked his door, made Harry do the same, and screeched off, going out the back driveway, which not many people used. He kept his lights off until they reached the main road a few blocks away. He didn't want to take any chances of that thug following him, or getting his license plate number to track him down.

Louis pulled up in front of his apartment, which was only blocks away, then turned to Harry. He was still shaking with pent-up anger.

"How the hell did you manage that?" he demanded.

Harry pulled a screwdriver out from under his jacket—the thing Louis had thought was a gun.

"I poked him in the back with it," Harry explained. "He must've thought it was a gun."

"Well yeah, he thought it was a gun alright! You threatened to shoot his balls off!" Louis laughed, and he laughed hard. The anger evaporated instantly. "Clever one, you are! You scared the livin' shit outta him!"

Harry smiled, and his dimples popped into view.

"Didn't even think it could be you," Louis went on. "You made your voice even lower than it already is, and it sounded so . . . James Bond-like. Wait, how'd you know where I was?" Louis was really confused now. Harry had popped out of nowhere!

"I was walkin' by, and saw your car pull into the gym and then go 'round back. I kept walkin,' but then when I finished me walk and went by the gym again, I saw that guy lurkin' 'round all suspicious-like, and when he crept 'round the back of the buildin,' I had to be sure you were alright."

Louis laughed again. He laughed until his gut hurt and his sides spasmed.

"That low, menacin' voice, then feelin' that screwdriver in his back, no wonder he backed off, yeah?"

Harry looked self-satisfied and nodded, clearly pleased.

"And what, may I ask, were you doin' with a screwdriver?" asked Louis. "And where's your Rover?" It had just dawned on him that he hadn't even thought to look for the Rover.

"I didn't have it with me. I was just walkin' the streets, coolin' me jets. I live close by here anyway. I'd used the screwdriver to bang on me Rover's battery connections earlier tonight. Sometimes it'll start if I do that. It didn't start, so I kicked the tire, and took off walkin' to deal with me temper. Didn't even remember I was still holdin' the screwdriver until I saw that guy had you up against your car."

Louis thought he'd bust with the onslaught of ever more raucous laughter. "You're a clever one, Harry. Thanks for savin' me wallet, and maybe even me life."

"Don't exaggerate. He just wanted your wallet."

"You never know. He could have knocked me out after takin' it. In any case, you saved me major inconvenience at the least, and maybe serious injury."

"It's funny, but it seems fate keeps bringin' us together," said Harry, then promptly looked astonished that he'd actually said that.

Louis shrugged, uncomfortable. "Yeah, well . . . "

Louis realized he was now bound to Harry. Harry had taken him to Starbucks, and all he'd done was jump Harry's vehicle. But tonight Harry might well have saved his life. Like him or not, Louis felt he could at least invite Harry to do something Harry enjoyed.

"What's your favorite dessert?" inquired Louis.

Harry looked befuddled. "Dessert? Ice cream, why?"

"Let's go to Baskin Robbins. It's the least I can do. Wish I could take you to dinner, but I just ate."

"So did I."

"Okay then, let's go. You can get the huge banana split that includes three scoops of ice cream, a whole banana, and three toppings." Louis hated to admit how he knew about it. He used to get banana splits there regularly before he started taking better care of his health. Harry's eyes lit up and Louis knew he'd hit the jackpot.

"I _love _bananas," Harry said.

"Wait here while I go change out of these work-out clothes," and Louis bounced out of the car, went inside his apartment and changed, and was back in about three minutes. Harry, wondering why he hadn't invited him in, remembered how angry Louis had been with him for his remark some weeks ago. He knew he had to set things straight.

At Baskin Robbin's, Harry got the classic banana split the place was famous for, with the flavor of the three scoops of ice cream being carefully chosen by Harry, including cookie dough, peppermint fudge ribbon and mocha almond fudge. He topped it with chocolate, caramel and butterscotch sauce, sprinkles, nuts and whipped cream with, of course, a cherry on top.

Louis just shook his head in wonder. He ordered two scoops of mint chocolate chip frozen yogurt in a cup with sprinkles. He was proud he'd ordered yogurt instead of ice cream.

Harry went straight to a corner where other customers and employees couldn't easily hear them, and got serious again.

"You didn't let me talk when you walked out of Starbucks, and I don't wanna bring up anythin' distasteful, but I wanted to explain meself," he said quietly to Louis.

Louis scrunched his nose up a little bit, because he really didn't want to hear some lame excuse for what Harry had said, and besides that, there really _was _no excuse. Facts were facts.

He waited on Harry, not giving away anything. He didn't give Harry the satisfaction of saying, "go ahead," or "screw you" or anything else. He just peered into Harry's eyes, calmly staring him down.

Harry was pushing himself. Louis could see that. He seemed intimidated too. Louis got the feeling that Harry wanted to be certain he worded it right.

"Um, like . . . when I said I wasn't . . . fond of dogs, you took it the wrong way. Or maybe I _said_ it the wrong way," he quickly corrected himself. "Because, you see, I _am_ fond of dogs—I really am. I'm just . . . afraid of them."

At first Louis thought Harry must be joking around, but one look at Harry's lower lip that was quivering, and his left eye that was twitching, and he knew Harry was being truthful.

"Scared of them? You're scared of dogs?" Louis was astounded. He couldn't imagine that. "Why?"

"I got bitten by one when I was eight. Been scared ever since." Harry looked down at the floor as if he couldn't bear to meet Louis' gaze.

"Big teeth marks in me calf. I was ridin' me bike, yeah? The dog chased me, and bit me before I could work up enough speed to get away."

"What kind of dog?" Louis had no idea why he'd even asked. What did it matter? He guessed he just felt he needed to say something; contribute more to the conversation.

"Boston terrier."

Boston terrier! Louis almost laughed, but thought better of it in the next breath. A Boston terrier rarely weighs over twenty pounds. But Harry had spoken of the teeth marks, and even little dogs can bite really hard when they're riled up, as in chasing a bike. To demonstrate, Harry pulled up his pants leg to show Louis the scar on his left calf. Teeth marks, no doubt. Quite a scar. That dog had really chomped on him.

"Wow, that must've bled a lot," he murmured.

"Yeah, it did. Hurt a lot too."

"Hey, um . . . Harry, I'm . . . sorry I jumped to conclusions. I should've known better. You don't seem like the type that hates dogs."

"I tried to explain—" Harry began.

"I know you did," Louis cut in. "I walked out on you without letting you say a word. I . . . I was wrong."

That had been more than difficult for Louis to say. The words had almost gotten stuck in his throat, but he knew Harry deserved his consideration. He'd been horribly rude at Starbucks.

"I really am sorry, Harry. I should never have treated you that way. I hope you'll forgive me. But I might as well tell you now that I don't mingle with people much. Not more than I have to. So I hope you're not expectin' friendship. Not anythin' more than what we're doin' now. I'm solitary and autonomous, and I want to remain that way."


	4. Chapter 4

Well, thought Harry. Louis had done it again. Shot him down, and leaving him no wiggle room at all. Even so, Harry was not a quitter, and decided to just let things play out and see what developed.

"So . . . you're a loner?" asked Harry, concealing his hurt as best he knew how. He could hardly believe what Louis had said- was still reeling from the fact that Louis had essentially just rejected him as a friend.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that. Nothing personal against you though, of course, yeah?"

Harry didn't respond because he didn't know how to feel, let alone what to say, and thus it wasn't possible to pull the right reaction from within. It was harder to meet nice people than a person would think. Most people didn't understand him and his passion for music, for singing. They didn't take it, or him, seriously. They thought of it as more of a hobby, and that cut deep, because he was wholeheartedly, completely committed to it.

Louis hadn't seemed the type that would make light of his passion, or make him feel inferior because of it. And so he'd trusted him with the information. Consequently, this slight on Louis' part was especially hurtful. Harry'd hoped there would be a glimmer of hope for a friendship. But Louis could be very contrary; encouraging him one minute, and then keeping him at arm's length the next.

The people Harry knew in music were mostly egotists. A lot of them had a superior attitude, and Harry was pretty much a stark contrast. So he felt misunderstood, although he had thought he had sensed a promise of possible emotional support in Louis. Maybe he'd been wrong. Dead wrong.

Louis had been nice enough to jump his Rover when he'd been in a bind, and so Harry had gotten the idea that, even though he'd gotten cynical vibes from him initially, Louis was essentially a decent person. He still hoped he was, but what did Louis have against having friends?

Harry was shocked to find he was experiencing a dismal emotion that made him feel downtrodden. The emotion was powerful—why was this stranger's possible negative opinion of him so important? Even when Louis was silent, Harry found himself questioning everything, like _why _was he silent?

This must be Louis' way of telling him he wasn't good enough to be friends with him. Now he felt extra stupid for having worn that blazer to Starbucks. Had he been trying to make a good impression? Make an impact? He supposed so.

Louis had lost his desire for the coffee at Starbucks, and now Harry was losing his appetite for the banana split that had made his mouth water such a short time ago. And it wasn't as if he could wrap it up and take home to eat later, so he forced himself to eat it because he didn't want to waste Louis' money.

"You do understand, don't you?" Louis implored, looking like he'd just taken a kid's lollipop away.

"Um, yeah. Of course. You're just . . . happier with your own company." Harry was trying to cover up the hurt, trying to fill in the silence so Louis wouldn't be suspicious when he took too long to answer.

That was completely, utterly wrong, thought Louis. He wasn't happier with his own company. Not most of the time. But he couldn't admit that to Harry.

"A lone wolf, living a solitary existence." Harry was just babbling now. Rambling on. "A bit of an introvert."

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far," Louis protested, feeling annoyed for some odd reason.

"So, you don't have_ any_ friends?" Harry didn't like being nosy, but couldn't seem to help himself.

"It's a long ass story, and I wouldn't want to bother you with it," Louis dismissed it out of hand.

"You wouldn't bother me. But only if you_ wanna_ tell me," Harry emphasized.

"Not especially," Louis was detaching himself again, and Harry knew he couldn't encourage him to warm up to him without encroaching on the guy's privacy. Not to mention making himself appear impolite. So he dropped it.

Louis watched Harry out of the corner of his eye as Harry dispatched the last of the ice cream. Guilt was a sharp, spiky thing.

"Well," Louis announced as he stood up abruptly the moment Harry finished the last spoonful of his banana split.

Harry felt dispensable. Sure, Louis had paid for the ice cream, but he felt strangely as if Louis was just fulfilling an obligation. That he didn't really relish spending time with him. Like he was trying to get this over with so he could go on living his selfish, self-absorbed life.

Harry rarely judged anyone, and he knew he was being judgmental now only because he felt discarded. There had to be a good reason for Louis' behavior, he reminded himself when he felt bitterness crawling in. Harry could swear he wasn't naturally a cruel, unfeeling person.

"Well, um, thanks for the banana split," Harry murmured, and Louis felt his heart ache just a little bit. Here Harry had saved him from the piece of shit who wanted to rob him, and how did he thank him? By trying to cut the visit short and get Harry out of his way.

"Yeah, and . . . thanks for . . . runnin' that dude off."

Harry shrugged and looked at the floor. Louis knew he could find it within himself to at least shake Harry's hand. But he didn't. Louis just walked away, expecting Harry to follow him so he could take him home. And Harry trailed behind, feeling like he was seriously inferior.

When Louis dropped Harry off at home, he endured another stab of guilt at seeing Harry's Rover in the driveway. He knew he should offer to take Harry to Pep Boys, and buy him a battery. After someone saves your life, it's the very least you can do. But Louis talked himself out of it, sure Harry's bandmates would pick him up tomorrow for band practice, and take him to get a battery too. It wouldn't be that much of a hardship.

Louis wondered briefly if Harry could even afford a battery. But to ask was reaching too far into someone's personal business, and that got you into trouble; could cause a person to start confiding in you, and become too used to having you around.

So he just dropped him off, uttered a thank you again, waved, and drove off into the night.

Harry, head hanging, and feet dragging, sulked as he walked into his apartment. He felt so much weight. Weight from not getting any appreciation from his band members, not being listened to when he had ideas, and not being with the right band, period. Their tastes in music were getting more and more different from his, and he felt they didn't give him enough credit for his song writing. They wanted him, their front man, to sing the kinds of songs_ they_ wanted, and Harry felt ganged up on. How can you feel confidence in yourself and your abilities when your bandmates didn't approve of your preferences and opinions, _ever?_

And now . . . now he'd just been turned down as a friend. How insulting.

His bandmates were currently his only friends. If you wanted to call them friends. And none of them would empathize with him. No one seemed to understand, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt depressed.

Louis, sitting in his apartment and pondering for a couple of hours, now knew why he'd felt that sense of unease before meeting Harry at Starbucks. The guy was attractive, funny, and yet shy. A perfect complement to Louis' tendency to be too serious, often also being pugnacious. Too quick on the draw. He could learn a thing or two from Harry, and vice versa. Louis could learn to lighten up, and Harry could learn to be a little more cautious without losing his joyful presence.

There were also some factors Louis didn't want to admit as readily to himself. But they were present, nonetheless, and he was only fooling himself if he didn't face up to them. He could get too fond of Harry, want to spend too much time with him, throw his life away on someone who could so easily decide to move away, or find more interesting friends. Friends that weren't dog walkers. Because Harry, after all, was afraid of dogs. So, in that way, they weren't as compatible as Louis would have preferred.

Good friends could be washed away like the tide. Louis had had several good ones as a youngster in Doncaster. But when he'd moved to America, he'd had to say goodbye. He had to follow his dream of making it big. It hadn't been worth it. Not in the end. Sure, he'd made money. Lots of it. But at what price? Those friends of his had all gone on with their lives without him. Gotten married, and most of them had kids now. Where had that left Louis? A burned out professional who suddenly found himself lonely and pensive, wondering if things would have been different had he stayed in England.

None of his friends had been gay. So they had all been bound to live very different lives than his. He would have ended up being alone anyway.

Now and then it rained in California. And it could rain hard at times. And at those times the need for Louis' services were greatly diminished, and so Louis stayed in his apartment. He called home, which made him feel even worse than he already did. He could hear his father in the background as he talked to his mum, and felt so homesick that it made him want to jump on a flight.

But he couldn't do that. He was twenty-nine, and he'd come here to make something of himself. And he had. Now he was doing something he loved and making money doing it. What could be better? His mum and dad were glad too because they'd really worried about him toward the end of his corporate life. He had lost too much weight, had circles under his eyes didn't possess the exuberance he'd once had. They had been, frankly, shocked at the sight of him when he'd come home to visit. His sister had actually gasped out loud at his appearance.

Now that he was walking dogs for a living they had seen the difference by the next time he'd gone home. He was the old Louis again, except that he hadn't found a life partner yet. His mum knew he was gay, and was fully accepting after she'd recovered from the shock. His father was a lot more reserved about it, didn't understand it, didn't approve, but nevertheless would never stop loving his son. His sister was stunned and quite hesitant to hear about it at first, but she'd come around.

In a nutshell, they all loved him and ultimately wanted his happiness over anything else.

After he'd finished the call, there was nothing left to do. The rain just kept coming down, and the forecast said it would continue for a few more days. Whatever would he do with the time? Biting his nails, watching re-runs he'd seen a hundred times, and reading, well, he could only do so much of it.

He didn't want to go out into the rain just to rent movies, and he didn't really like watching them that much anyway. They bored him after a while, and he found he had trouble sitting still for two or three hours. As a result, he didn't have many movie channels on his telly.

What he really wanted was someone to talk to. A living, breathing, warm human being to exchange ideas with, or just discuss life with. Someone to laugh with, shoot the shit with, have a beer with, just kick back with.

Unexpectedly, thoughts of Harry intruded. He was just the kind of guy who would offer the kind of companionship Louis so craved. Yet, Louis had treated him like shit. Why did he keep doing that?

The answer was simple: He needed to stay away from Harry. If the guy affected him so much that he was discourteous and churlish with him . . . well, Harry didn't deserve that. So the best tactic to use in this situation was to avoid the handsome devil that haunted Louis' dreams at night as well as his daydreams.

There, he'd admitted it. There was no way in this world Louis was going to get involved with the chap. Friendship or otherwise. No way, no how. Harry was very likely not gay, anyway.

Only hurt would lay ahead for Louis, or maybe, both of them. Louis shook his head, and laughed under his breath without mirth. Here he was, wanting a friend, yet he refused the only promising guy to fill that role by being ungracious toward him.

Night after night, Louis pleased himself with his hand to the mental picture in his head of Harry gazing at him with keen interest, and apparent innocence. Did the guy just_ look_ innocent, or was he one of those exceedingly rare individuals who actually _was_ as wholesome and incorrupt as he seemed? The guy was too unsuspecting, too unsullied, too uncontaminated for Louis' uncontained past. Louis was too adept for Harry, too savvy, too shrewd. Harry was simple, Louis was complex.

He'd thought before that they'd be good for each other. But that had been in a weak moment when Louis was yearning a little too much for camaraderie. Now that he was looking at this with a critical, unbiased point of view, he saw they were too unalike.

_Unbiased?_ Hardly, Tommo. He was about as biased as he could be, but he wouldn't let himself acknowledge that. Not for a minute. He wouldn't let himself think about how they had established—although without being held accountable for it, that they could, in fact, communicate quite well when they weren't misunderstanding each other.

Harry was to-the-point and too honest. So sometimes things came out in an unintended way; especially the remark about not being fond of dogs. But he meant well. Louis had to give him that. And that observation Harry had made about them running into each other at random—or something like that, bugged Louis.

Did things always happen for a reason? And did people also cross paths for a reason? Or was that just a sentiment? Some goofy uninformed assumption someone had made?

Over the next few weeks, Louis caught sight of Harry a few times. It seemed an unlikely coincidence in an area such as L.A. or Hollywood, where millions of people resided, but Louis was fairly certain it was Harry at each incident. Those mile-long legs, half unbuttoned shirt, long dark, curly hair, usually wearing boots. And the way he walked—as if he had supreme confidence, which Louis knew he didn't. Louis would continue to drive by him, even though he knew his Mustang stuck out like a sore thumb, and there was a good chance Harry had seen him. Louis refused to pull over though. He did wonder though, if the Rover's battery was still not replaced, and that was why Harry was walking. How could anyone be that stubborn? Or that stupid?

He did pass a lot of Rovers on the road, and he always looked to see if Harry was behind the wheel. He thought he did see him driving a couple of times, but he was far from certain. What disturbed him though, was when he thought he saw him, there was some kind of base response that caused Louis' heart to beat rapidly, and he experienced a strange episode of adrenaline that took a while to wear off. His breathing would quicken, making him feel breathless. When this happened, his limbs felt like rubber, and his thinking became foggy, making concentrating on driving difficult. He didn't like this feeling of a lack of control.

He knew where Harry lived, of course, and resisted the urge to drive by there on a regular basis. In fact, he wouldn't allow himself to do it even a single time. He knew that if he did, he'd graduate to doing it almost daily.

There had been an unusual amount of rain for Southern California for the last two weeks. Louis' dog walking business was at a crawl because of it. No one wanted him taking their dogs out in the rain. No umbrella would cover Louis and four or five dogs. And the few that he still took required a brisk toweling off when they got back, with their feet wiped especially thoroughly, or, of course, the owners would throw a fit. And jumping over puddles with that many dogs didn't culminate in much success. Inevitably, one or two of the smaller dogs would end up in the middle of the puddle, not being able to jump as far as the bigger dogs, so Louis decided to try to carry them. But you could only do so much with handling several leashes, and a small dog under each arm as you leapt over a puddle, hoping the dogs on the ground would follow you, and not end up jerking you backward to land on your back in the puddle.

After almost falling several times, Louis tried going around puddles, but there was so much rain that the gutters would be flooded, and he couldn't get to the dog park. It was becoming old and stale to see people looking out of their windows, waiting for the moment they'd see Louis tumbling head over heels into the water with dogs all around him, leashes hopelessly tangled. He _knew _it was what they were waiting for. It was better than the telly on a rainy day. Cheap entertainment at his expense . . .

One day everything had gone to shit. He'd picked the wrong dogs to walk together, and a minor scuffle ensued. Three of the dogs were snarling at each other, preparing for a full-on attack. The fox terrier, Shortcake, had been the instigator once again. Louis really hadn't thought there would be a problem, as the other dogs were so mellow that Louis couldn't imagine them even retaliating if attacked. Most of them were retiring and meek, wanting no part of a fight.

But Shortcake had pushed them too far. First he'd gone after Hector, the Basset Hound. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he'd gone after Katie, the mixed breed who was fairly new to the string of walkees. A _female!_ Well, Louis now knew what kind of abuser Shortcake would be if he was human. Katie surprised Louis with her sudden aggressiveness in answer to Shortcake's threats. So Louis, before he hardly knew what was happening, had a solid mass of fox terrier, mutt and Basset Hound, going at it and making some ghastly sounds. When Bassets get excited for any reason, they tend to be _loud._ They have to be, so hunters can hear them on the trail. So it sounded much worse than it was in reality.

People were staring, some coming over to try to help, and others were screaming (these tended to be children and girls). Louis gestured to the people to get back. The last thing he needed was people getting bitten in addition to the dogs doing damage to each other. A huge law suit would in the making.

He calmly separated them, dodging the bared teeth and snapping jaws, and took Shortcake home early, telling his owner he'd have to find another walker for him. Either that or he'd have to charge fifty per hour. Well of course the owner badgered Louis, saying his dog would surely not initiate a fight. Louis told him otherwise. The guy slammed the door in Louis' face without even paying him for today's walk_. Well, half_ a walk, really. Louis cut his losses and finished up his day soaking wet. The umbrella had been flung by the wayside when the fight ensued, and as there was quite a downpour, he was drenched to the skin.

After toweling off all the dogs and seeing no one had even a scratch, he counted his blessings. He went home, changed into dry clothes and decided to go out to dinner.

After eating a healthy salad at a health food restaurant, languishing and reading a book while there, and feeling sorry for himself about how his day had gone, he decided to go for a short drive before going home. He stopped here and there to do errands, and made sure to pick up his favorite brownies, because he _had _to have them. After all, he'd had a healthy dinner, and the brownies were to be his reward for such a shitty day. By this time it was dusk and he was ready to go home.

He'd ventured a little farther than he'd planned on, and now the rain was really pounding down, making it difficult to see, even with his windshield wipers set to the fastest speed. He was only a few miles from home, but the puddles were getting so deep that he started worrying about his Mustang's ability to cross them without getting wet under the hood and conking out on him. The water was beginning to rise over the curbs.

A figure crossed the road in front of him, now walking in the same direction he was driving, on the sidewalk that was in danger of flooding. By now it was totally dark. What in the hell was someone doing out in this pouring rain in the dark?

And on top of that, the person had no umbrella! It was dark enough to not be able to tell if the person was male or female at first. Louis saw long hair, so assumed it was a girl. No way was he allowing a girl to walk in this rain, as wet as she was, and as dark as it was. He found a place where he could pull over, getting his cell phone ready to call someone for her should she refuse to get into the car with him.

The figure approached the passenger door, and Louis saw immediately that it was likely not a girl, from the height alone. The long, dark, dripping hair looked familiar, and when the person opened the passenger door to peer in, Louis saw that it was, indeed, a guy. And not just any guy.

_**Harry.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Oh shit. Would he never stop running into this guy?_

"I'm fine. Just walkin' home," Harry stuttered as if he'd been caught out doing something illegal.

"Get in the car. You're wetter than someone that's been doused by a whale at Sea World."

"No," replied Harry. "You made it clear the last two times I saw you that you don't want me company."

"I didn't say that," Louis grumbled.

"You said you didn't want any friends, or sommat like that."

"I don't care what I said. Get in the bloody car!"

"No! I won't . . . infringe on you."

Louis leaned over, and quick as greased lightning, he grabbed Harry's wrist as he rested his hand on the door frame and yanked him inside. Harry landed on his belly, stunned and gobsmacked that Louis would be so gutsy.

"All the way in!" Louis commanded even as Harry struggled to wriggle inside, still on his belly and floundering like a fish out of water. He grabbed Louis' arm to steady himself and hauled his long legs and then his feet onto the floorboard, crawling up onto the seat, abashed, with bright red stains on his cheeks that Louis could see in the glow cast by the interior light.

It only made his face more appealing. God, he'd forgotten how stunning he was. Damn it! Louis inhaled laboriously as, suddenly, there didn't seem to be not enough air in the car. Harry's influence on him was immense and sweeping.

"Your car! Your classic car! I'll get it all wet!"

"It'll be alright. Sit on that towel," Louis pointed to the backseat, and Harry leaned back and grasped the towel, stuffing it under his butt. He was shivering quite badly.

"How long you been out there?"

"I dunno. Maybe half an hour," Harry answered weakly, teeth chattering audibly.

Louis sighed in that impatient way of his. "Way too long. You're chilled." Louis turned his heater up to full blast and Harry leaned forward, holding his hands up to the vents.

"What were you doin' out there on a night like this, anyway?"

"It's complicated."

"I have time," Louis said simply, just assuming Harry would tell him. And here Harry had been worried about prying into Louis' business! Louis didn't seem to hesitate in trying to find out Harry's business.

But since Louis had picked him up and_ forced _him inside, Harry reckoned he owed him an explanation.

"Had a fall-out with me band. Big argument. I walked out."

Louis was silenced, but only for a few seconds.

"What happened?"

"Like I said, it's complicated. We disagreed, _again, _about the music, and I couldn't take it anymore. I walked out."

"You mean, for tonight, right? Not for good?"

"For good."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm serious alright. It's been goin' on a proper long time, and I can't hack it any more. I'm outta the band."

"How far did you walk?"

"I dunno. A mile or so."

Louis just shook his head in wonder. So Harry _wasn't_ all sunshine and rainbows all of the time. He'd spoken up for himself and acted on it. Louis admired that. Harry had just risen a peg in his estimation.

"That's . . . that's ballsy," he said.

"If you knew what I've been through with those you-know-whaters, you wouldn't question it," deadpanned Harry.

As Louis pulled out again into traffic, he couldn't help but feel another wave of admiration for Harry's show of backbone. But if the guy no longer had a job, what would he do?

Trying to drive onto Harry's street quickly proved to be an impossibility. The water level was so high that Louis knew the Mustang wouldn't make it.

"I'll just walk from here," Harry suggested.

"Are you shittin' me? You'd practically get swept away in that current. It's worse than where I picked you up. And you're soaked anyway. No . . . you'll have to come home with me. That is, if I can get onto me own street," Louis added sardonically.

Turned out Louis' street was negotiable, but only barely. He parked, and they proceeded to run to the building, both leaping quite impressively over large puddles. Well, Louis would at least have company for the night now. He hadn't planned on it, and he wasn't prepared for company, but what else could he do?

As Louis ushered Harry into his apartment, Harry didn't try to hide his interest in his surroundings. Nice, comfy looking couch and recliner in the decent-sized living room sparsely decorated in various shades of tan and brown, a small TV by today's standards, cute eating area in a far corner to the right, complete with small dining table and chairs, and an entrance into what Harry assumed was the kitchen was around the corner. To the left of the living room was a hallway, and Harry presumed that was where the bedroom or bedrooms and bathroom were. Cute place. Messy though. Clothes and a jacket strewn over the couch, newspapers and books piled precariously on the coffee table and end tables, two pair of shoes that looked like they been stepped out of and left where they landed, right in the pathway to the hallway where someone could easily trip over them.

"Sorry 'bout the disorder. I'm a messy sort," Louis apologized with a slight eyebrow wiggle. Harry took that to mean Louis found his messiness a bit amusing, and didn't take it seriously.

"Me apartment isn't exactly pristine either," Harry replied. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"Well, first things first. Let's get you into some dry clothes. I'm afraid me clothes would be a little small on you, but I do have sweats that would fit you fine. You know, one size fits all!"

Louis disappeared down the hallway, smoothly avoiding his abandoned shoes, and came back with some black sweats. Well, Harry liked the color anyway. Black suited him fine.

"Bathroom's there," Louis pointed to the end of the hall. "Towels in there to dry yourself and your hair. Give me your wet clothes and I'll put 'em in the dryer." Harry hadn't noticed any laundry facilities, but he slipped into the bathroom, dried off and came back out with his wet clothes bunched into a ball, and feeling cozy and warm in the sweats. Louis took the wet clothes and went out the front door. Harry assumed the apartment complex's laundry room was nearby.

When Louis got back, he spied Harry's bare feet.

"Me shoes—they're still in the bathroom," explained Harry.

"Well, hopefully they'll dry out on their own. I don't suppose it'd be a good idea to put 'em in the dryer with your clothes." Two young bachelors, not sure what to do with wet shoes. They were a sorry lot, Louis decided.

"Have you had dinner?" he asked Harry.

"Yeah, had some take-out burgers at the place where we practice."

"Where do you practice?"

"We rent a place over that way," Harry pointed west. "Can't remember the street name. I never look at street names, just landmarks."

Louis nodded. "So you walked from there?"

"Yeah."

"Where's your Rover?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Wouldn't start."

"The battery again, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"When you gonna get a new fuckin' battery?" Louis' voice reflected his annoyance with Harry's procrastination of the undertaking. It should have been done weeks ago.

Harry shrugged. "I keep forgettin.'" He said as if it was of minor importance.

"So, because you haven't done it, you end up in the pourin' rain, walkin' home," Louis sounded disgusted, and Harry turned meek.

Louis decided he'd better change the subject. Knowing Harry, he might start crying or something. The guy was openly sensitive.

Louis went back into his bedroom and came out with thick socks, which he handed to Harry, who gratefully slipped them on.

"You're serious? You really quit the band?" Louis asked as he began to clear the clothes off the couch so he and Harry could sit down.

"Yeah, and it's long overdue." Harry seemed relieved that the subject had been changed. He was actually embarrassed he hadn't been more responsible about the battery.

"Hey, I picked up some brownies on the way home. Wait'll you taste 'em. They're my favorite. I'll go out and get 'em." Without waiting for Harry to protest and say he didn't need any brownies (and Louis knew that was exactly what he'd say) he went out the door again and returned with the box of brownies.

As they sat at the table and sunk their teeth into the unfailingly moist and gooey brownies, Harry groaned, chewing slowly and licking his lips as he savored the dessert. Louis tried to ignore the groan because it affected him in a very physical way.

"Good, yeah? What're you gonna do now?" asked Louis after chewing and swallowing.

"Professionally? Find another band." Harry said it so casually that Louis wondered if it would indeed be as easy as Harry was making it sound.

"What kind of music?"

"Pop, rock, R&B. I like a little of everythin.'"

"Except metal, hip-hop and rap?" guessed Louis.

"Yeah, how'd you know that? It's the main reason I left the band. I just can't get into those kinds of music, and don't feel I should have to."

"How will you pay for your apartment and livin' expenses until you get another job?"

Harry looked at him as if he had two heads. "I know a lotta people in the industry. I've had offers . . . ." Harry trailed off, not wanting to sound like he was boasting, but it was true he'd had other bands practically beg him to be their front man. He didn't play any instruments, but his voice was enough.

"Good, good," said Louis, unconvinced in spite of himself. He didn't know many people who could just go out and get another job without having to pound the pavement at least a little bit.

"So your Rover's at where you practice?"

Harry nodded.

"Will it be safe there overnight?"

Harry nodded again. "Lots of lights, and a security guard for one of the stores," he explained.

"Well, we can go over early tomorrow mornin,' providin' it isn't still pourin,' and get it," decided Louis without even bothering to consult Harry. He was a take-charge kind of person. "But of course we'll pick up a new battery first," he added firmly.

The grateful look on Harry's face made Louis uncomfortable. He didn't want the kind of gushy thanks he knew would spout from Harry's mouth.

"I do appreciate that, thank you," said Harry simply.

Well, that hadn't been the sickening outpour that Louis had feared.

They finished off half the big box of brownies before Harry rubbed his stomach and groaned; but this time the groan wasn't quite the same. "I'm workin' on a bellyache," he confessed.

"Yeah, me too. They sure were good though. I have to go get 'em every once in a while."

"I can see why. So . . . I told you about my job. When will you tell me about yours? The one you had before?" Harry's eyes were fastened to Louis,' all ears and expectance. Louis figured it wouldn't do any harm to tell him about his former life. It was no secret anyway.

"I was a financial analyst up until about five months ago." He waited for the barrage of questions. The few people he'd told about it always had the same response.

But Harry sat, frozen, staring Louis down, hoping Louis would volunteer. Louis didn't speak up, curious as to what Harry would say next.

"You pullin' me leg?" Harry said.

"No."

"But . . . that's a proper impressive job. How in the world? You're too young!" Louis could tell Harry was really wondering if he was lying.

"I know . . . so I graduated early from high school and college, graduated from CFA, got in the required four years' work experience, and went to work as a financial analyst. I rushed through everythin' to get to that point, and only a little over a year later, I burned out. I'm twenty-nine, by the way."

"I didn't know . . . that was even possible," breathed Harry. He didn't know a whole lot about the corporate world, but he knew enough to know Louis was definitely special. He was starting to realize why Louis was so solemn a lot of the time, so disciplined in some ways. The guy was somewhat of a prodigy! He was one smart cookie who had worked his way to an impressive position in the corporate world, and at a very young age.

Now Harry was feeling quite intimidated. He'd gone to two years of college, majoring in music, and then had joined a band. In no way could he come even close to comparing to Louis and his lucrative past.

"A lot is possible when you really want something," Louis said quietly.

"Yeah, but you gotta have the smarts too. But . . . why did you quit? After all the schoolin' and hard work? Why are you a dog walker?" Harry tried not to sound like he was disapproving of Louis' choices.

But Louis didn't seem perturbed at all. "I got burned out. Real fast. It was sixteen hour days, and I'd find meself in the office at two or three in the mornin,' knowin' I had to be at work again at six. It was nothin' but work. I made good money, but it wasn't worth it in the end. I hit a wall, and after a hell of a lotta thought, decided I couldn't continue. So I came here, to Hollywood, and pursued me love of dogs. I thought of becoming a groomer, but that would take more schooling, and I'd had more than I wanted of that.

"I finally came up with dog walker after seein' how many rich people in Hollywood don't wanna be bothered, or don't have the time to walk their own dogs. There's a big demand. And they have money, so they don't mind payin' for it."

All was silent. You could hear the rain outside, splattering against the glass slider. Harry watched the drops slide down the glass in rivulets, hardly able to believe what Louis had told him. He didn't know how much money Louis had made at his old job, but he knew it had to be a lot. Probably a hundred grand or more a year. Yet he'd quit it cold to be a dog walker.

Louis wasn't cold-hearted and arrogant like those corporate guys. That was why he couldn't continue with that life. He wasn't uptight and "all work and no play" like he seemed to be to outsiders at first glance. He wasn't that kind of person at all. What Harry had seen initially were sizeable remnants of the life Louis_ used_ to have. It wasn't just Harry he was appearing to disapprove of. It was everyone. Louis was just trying to adjust, and protect himself at the same time. Harry felt he understood him a little better now.

"That's really amazin,'" Harry said after a while of just sitting leisurely, watching the rain and being comfortable in each other's company. "I mean, how many people are doin' what they want to in life, and lovin' their job? You were brave to leave."

Louis wiggled a bit in his chair, uncomfortable with the praise. "I didn't look at it that way. I needed to get me sanity back. I knew it wasn't the life for me."

Louis sat back and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back, not realizing the move that made his tee shirt ride up just a bit, showing a couple inches of the skin of his belly. Harry's eyes tracked his every move, and Louis felt them on his body.

_Could Harry be gay? _

No. What were the chances of that? Probably very low. Harry was probably just admiring him, just having found out what kind of job he'd had. A kind of hero worship thing. Louis didn't like to think of it like that, but he'd run across it a few times. He honestly didn't feel any different from anyone else.

At the same time, Harry was wondering what Louis would want with the likes of him. Shouldn't Louis have important, influential friends? Why was he hanging around with Harry, a singer who, at the moment, was unemployed?

Louis jolted, wondering if he should have told Harry about his past. Very few people knew. Why had he trusted Harry with the information? He was a little miffed at himself for revealing so much to someone he didn't know well. But Harry was the sort of person who invited your trust. He didn't demand, and he didn't assume. And no one said he had to tell Harry how much money he had in the bank, so no harm done.

_Yeah, right,_ he said to himself. Louis wasn't ignorant or gullible. He knew Harry could very possibly be grooming him—but for what? So Harry could ask him for a loan that he would never pay back? Or maybe he wanted to use Louis in other ways. Have Louis run him all over town to do his errands. Who knew? There were lots of ways a person could use another.

Louis thought about Harry's vehicle for a moment. If Harry was a singer who was just getting started—and that was what Louis was assuming, then how could he afford a Range Rover that was only a couple of years old? Maybe he had rich parents? There were a lot of unanswered questions where Harry was concerned, even though he seemed open and honest enough.

Louis experienced a sudden flood of guilt. His parents had paid for college, his books, his certification to become a financial analyst—all of it. And here he had quit after barely over a year. He'd given his parents a few gifts. They weren't poor by any means, as Louis' father had a white collar job himself-was production manager for a local newspaper, but Louis' education had still cost quite a chunk of change, and Louis wanted to thank them in some way. So he'd gotten his mother the grandfather clock she'd always wanted, and he'd paid for a vacation to Tahiti that they'd talked about for many years, but hadn't yet taken.

His parents had been so gracious about him quitting. They were a lot more concerned about their son's happiness and mental state than his social status or financial state. They had not had a bad word to say about his current job and said they were glad he was contented and was no longer plagued with anxiety and exhaustion. Their son's happiness was what mattered most to them.

"You know, I was astonished that you were the same guy I'd seen in the grocery store when you stopped and helped me with me Rover," Harry remarked out of the blue.

"Well . . . " Louis shifted in his seat. "Truth be told, I saw your Rover in the parkin' lot, and recognized you."

"So you knew it was me before you pulled into the dollar store parkin' lot?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did." Louis felt vulnerable in his admission. Would Harry think that was weird?

Harry just smiled mildly. "It was a real nice gesture," he said.

Louis was remembering how Harry had opened the passenger door to his Mustang in the pouring rain, looking taller than Louis remembered, his hair plastered to his forehead, and those piercing green eyes peering at him. Those endless emerald eyes . . . Jeez.

"What did you think when you saw it was me?" Louis stepped out of his comfort zone because he wanted to hear Harry's reaction.

"Like I said, I was astonished, but just glad someone was offerin' to help me."

For some reason unknown to him, Louis felt just a little bit disappointed with that answer.

_Someone. _Just any old someone to help him.

"So, would I make good friend material? That is, if you were lookin' for a friend?" asked Harry.

That comment about knocked Louis on his ass. Where had that come from? He sure hadn't seen it coming, and had no ready answer.

"I told you before . . . " he began.

Harry put up a hand to stop him.

"I know what you _said,_ but if you just _happened_ to be lookin' for a friend, how would I rate?"

Louis smiled—simply because he couldn't fight it. Harry was a character. His desire to be accepted and the way he was so straightforward about it –Louis supposed he could easily be persuaded to like Harry a lot. Well, maybe he already did.

"I think you might rate . . . pretty decently," replied Louis.

Harry put on a show of being mostly unimpressed. Polite and appearing to be pleased, but taking care not to look eager.

Louis pondered him. Harry would never make a good Poker player. He couldn't bluff for shit.

The sliding glass door that was a playground for the raindrops had floor to ceiling vertical blinds, and Louis reached up, pulled a cord, and the blinds closed with a definitive snap.

It did something to Harry. The action made him feel a strange burst of . . . he didn't know what. It was as if Louis had made a statement by closing the two of them in, together, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world.


	6. Chapter 6

"Let's go sit on the couch," suggested Louis as he took the box of brownies to the kitchen. "It's more comfortable in there."

So they settled in and talked over tea. In conversation, Harry explained why he'd been in the thrift store when Louis had jumped his Rover. He said he'd wanted to be careful with money because he didn't know how much longer he'd be with the band.

Okay, thought Louis. So that explained something he'd wondered about.

So Louis figured he might as well get an answer to another mystery he'd been wondering about.

"Why were you wearing a blazer at Starbuck's?" he asked.

A sweet pink stain colored Harry's cheeks, and his eyelashes fluttered as he looked down, away from Louis' probing blue eyes. He couldn't seem to answer. Louis could see he was playing with words in his head, not certain how he should articulate it.

"Well, I . . . um . . . " There it was again. That endearing "um" that Harry so often used when words failed him, or were hard to retrieve.

"I wanted to make . . . a good impression." Harry acted as if that sentence was going to literally devour him. The very palpable embarrassment was so immense that it seeped into Louis too—it was that substantial. Louis could feel it as if it was a live thing. He wanted to cushion the impact, but couldn't think of a way to accomplish it.

He wasn't sure _why _Harry wanted to impress him. He didn't dare hope Harry was interested in him. In _that way._ Would have been nice though. That is, _if_ Louis was looking for a boyfriend. Which he wasn't. Well, he _wanted_ one, but that didn't mean it was the right time. If only he were the type to throw caution to the wind. Sometimes he hated his orderly little world.

"Why would you want to impress_ me_?" he ventured bravely.

Now Harry was clearly in distress. He didn't know what he should say, and his throat worked helplessly.

"Cause I guess I just . . . thought you were a nice guy," he grimaced, knowing that sounded hollow and unconvincing as hell.

"Just a guy you saw at the grocery store, and didn't even know?" Louis pushed. Maybe it came across as a little on the cruel side, but he really wanted to hear the truth.

"You smiled at me," Harry said as if that clarified everything. Had he really smiled back at Harry? He must have, not even knowing he'd done it. That was how enchanted he'd been.

So maybe Harry _was_ gay. Louis could understand someone being attracted to someone, because that is exactly what had happened when he'd seen Harry. But was a mutual smile all it took for Harry to want to impress him? It still didn't mean Harry was gay-it left a very large grey area.

Louis decided not to torture Harry anymore.

"Your Rover," he began. "It's a nice vehicle. An expensive one too." He hadn't mean to be so blunt, poking his nose into Harry's business like that. But he really was genuinely curious.

"Oh, our band is, I mean _was,_ pretty successful in the area. I could afford it," Harry explained without seeming to take any offense.

Oh . . . well this was taking a different turn. Louis had never imagined Harry and his band were good enough to be in demand. That's what he got for assuming. Harry must be a pretty kick ass singer. That also explained why Harry didn't seem too concerned about finding another band. In truth, he seemed almost relieved that he'd broken free of them.

"Stop me if I'm bein' too overbearin,' but you don't make payments on the Rover?"

"No, it's paid off."

Louis whistled. "I know how much they go for, even a couple of years old. You're not doin' bad at all."

"Neither are you," quipped Harry.

"When I had a job," smiled Louis. "But I did save a little."

Louis liked that Harry was holding his own in this conversation, and was relaxing more all the time in Louis' presence. He'd appeared to be so shy and self-conscious before, but now that he was getting to know Louis better, his confidence seemed to have gotten quite a boost. Louis supposed this must be the "real" Harry that he'd not seen before.

Spurred on, Louis himself was becoming more optimistic and enthusiastic, and thus more animated, more into their banter.

Harry smiled. "I like you this way. You're so much more free and easy, not rigid like you were before. You were so closed off. But ya know, I knew you were holdin' sommat back. Some dark thing that had you by the neck."

Louis was further impressed. "That's it alright! It was chokin' me, so your analogy of sommat havin' me "by the neck" fits. You're observant, you are."

"What are you on to?" asked Harry, pulling a face as he said it. "Complimentin' me for bein' observant? When you like someone, you pay attention to everythin' about them."

There it was again. Louis deduced it could be subtle hints (well, really, maybe not so subtle) or, more likely, just Harry being the friendly person he was. Louis was certainly not going to bring it up, and end up embarrassing himself.

Still, he was amped up, really into Harry's attitude and lively exchange. How long had it been since he'd been engaged in such stimulating, effervescent, refreshing conversation? A virtual forever.

Then Louis had a sobering thought. "It's really too bad you're afraid of dogs," he said thoughtfully. "You might enjoy going on a few walks with me now and then, yeah?"

Harry took a deep breath, and Louis saw him stiffen up almost imperceptibly, although he somehow kept his expression neutral. Louis couldn't help but notice the tension that had built almost immediately. His body language did a one-eighty. It was almost as if Harry was afraid a dog was going to walk into the room at any second.

"I really wish I wasn't," he said simply. "It sounds like fun, that."

"Yeah, we seem to get on pretty well so far, if it weren't for the dog thing," Louis' face was downcast, a little brooding. It was difficult to hide his disappointment.

"I could watch you from a distance," offered Harry. Louis could tell that even this idea made Harry feel ill at ease. The guy had some serious dog issues.

"Ah, never mind. There's plenty to do besides walk dogs. I only do that a few hours a day anyway."

"Yeah, sure!" Harry was smiling again, and the tension was much reduced. "I like to do lots of things."

"So do I. I especially like football."

"I've only played a few times, but maybe you could help me with it?" Harry looked shy.

"Sure."

"Do you go out much? To bars, or dating?" asked Harry after a moment of silence.

_Oh, so here it comes,_ thought Louis. How had Harry so smoothly slipped in the dating part? He's going to ask about me private life. How to answer though? Tell the truth? That he didn't date? Didn't go out either? Man, he was gonna look like the biggest loser and the most boring person in the world.

"I don't. Neither one."

Harry's eyes were pinned to his. "Never? You never go out? And never date?" Harry was suddenly like a dog on a bone. He looked a little too eager to hear more. Almost voracious.

"No. Remember? I don't trust people." That was the truth. He wasn't lying. But he wasn't telling the _whole _truth either.

Harry looked confounded. He tipped his head slightly to the side as if he could ferret out the truth that way. Louis grabbed his chance and quickly turned the conversation to Harry.

"How about you?"

"Going out? Dating? Ah . . . no, not really."

_Interesting._ Now Louis was just as adamant to find out Harry's story as Harry was to discover his.

Neither one made the first move though. Was this going to be a stand-off? Well, if it was, then fine. Louis refused to tell anyone he wasn't super close to and trusted, that he didn't date women for a reason. So he didn't ask Harry why _he_ didn't date for fear Harry would turn the same question on him. And no doubt he would.

The rain was still coming down, and hard. They heard it on the roof, against the windows, and the wind was starting to howl too. It was nice cuddling weather, mused Louis. Too bad he had no one to cuddle.

"So . . . you aren't into women," Harry's remark wasn't a question. It was a statement. And it blew Louis away. He almost gasped out loud. He'd had no idea Harry was going to say anything remotely like that. He was caught with his defenses all the way down. And he didn't know how to respond. Not even a clue. How did he answer that without sounding defensive? How would a straight person respond to that? He struggled to think of the appropriate response without overdoing it, and giving himself away. Should he be casual, or act as if he was offended? In the end he settled for something in between.

"Why would I not be into women?" he fell back on the old "answer a question with another question."

Harry shrugged, and it looked to Louis like he was making an effort to look offhand and overly casual, and not doing a very effective job of it.

"Just wondered, since you said you didn't date."

"No desire to." Well, that was kind of the truth, and kind of a lie. Truth was, he _did_ want to date—just not women.

"So you're asexual?" Harry was serious, his forehead creased in concentration, and Louis just came apart, on the spot. He laughed harder than he'd laughed in years. Harry's comment followed by the sober expression had done him in.

Harry just sat there and stared at him, puzzlement written all over his face.

After a couple of minutes, Louis wiped his eyes, because he was literally crying from laughing so hard.

"No, I'm not asexual," he remarked, and then laughed again. "Just not interested in gettin' . . . involved with anyone right now.

"That's kinda how it is with me too," Harry said, although _he_ wasn't being all the way honest either.

Well, that had gotten them absolutely nowhere, as far as information. Time to change the subject again.

Louis proceeded to fumble around, trying to make conversation that didn't include dating, and suddenly things weren't as relaxed as they'd been before.

Harry had this way of fixing his eyes on you, and it looked as if he knew every truth and every lie you'd ever told in your life. It was hard to look away, but Louis felt too much intimacy was circulating, and that made him uncomfortable. So, with difficulty, he looked away.

"Why are you gettin' uptight again?" asked Harry innocuously. At least, Louis _thought_ it was innocuous. Louis felt trapped by Harry's bright green eyes, not knowing where to look, what to say, how to act.

He launched himself up from the couch.

"Sommat to drink?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he escaped to the kitchen to grab a couple of Pepsis. Or maybe Harry preferred Gatorade. He took one of each out of the fridge, planning to drink whichever one Harry didn't choose.

He backed up and leaned his back against the counter for a few seconds to try to coax some of his composure to the fore. When had he lost it?

This was hard for him to fathom. Harry was in his apartment! The guy he hadn't been able to sweep out of his mind; the one that even showed up in his dreams. He had to remain cool and poised. Harry absolutely _could not_ find out he had the hots for him. This was only a budding friendship, nothing more. And Louis didn't want to blow it.

Harry slipped around the corner, surprising him. Louis jumped, and he knew it was really exaggerated. He shouldn't have been that startled. It was only because he felt guilty, as if he was sneaking around, when in reality it was only his thoughts that were running amok, making him nervous and shaky.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Harry looked alarmed, because Louis had very nearly dropped the bottles in his hands. "Did I say sommat to upset you?"

"No . . . of course you didn't. I'm just . . . restin' a minute." It sounded so contrived; preposterous and goofy. Louis inhaled deeply, then realized Harry could hear the jittery unsteadiness of his breath.

"Hey, come on. You can tell me. We're gonna be friends, yeah? What's botherin' you so much?" Harry's voice was gentle and hypnotic. Louis was seeing everything in a distorted light. Harry only meant to comfort and calm him, but Louis, against his own will, heard it as a seduction. That low, smooth voice was going to do him in. Harry apparently didn't know his own power.

"You're lookin' pale. Let's go sit down again," Harry proposed, now wondering if Louis might be ill.

"Which one?" Louis held out the Gatorade and Pepsi. Harry shook his head.

"At the moment, I'm more worried about you," he admitted.

_Could he stop being so nice for just a little while?_ It was killing Louis. The nicer Harry was, the more inviting he became to Louis, and the more he captivated him.

"Christ, Harry. Why are you so fuckin' nice all the time?"

Harry eased back slowly, as if he was afraid Louis had taken leave of his senses.

"Don't you like nice people?" A simple question, and one Louis couldn't answer because he was in such a flustered state of mind. All he was doing was making things worse. He was going to alienate Harry real fast if he kept this up.

Louis sighed, troubled by the concerned look on Harry's face. "You're just so kind, and . . . kinda surreal, in a way. I mean, are you fakin' it, or are you really this way with everyone?"

Harry looked perplexed, as If he'd never really given it any thought.

"Well, yeah, I am."

"I'm used to sarcastic, prickly bastards. Back-stabbers. Ruthless people who stop at nothin' to get what they want. I don't know how to deal with you," explained Louis. "I can't deal . . ."

Harry smiled gently, as if he understood just what Louis was saying.

"Now that you're out of that line of business, you'll get back to normal, and hopefully you won't be so suspicious," Harry offered.

"I hope so, because I'm tired of not trustin' anybody."

"I'll earn your trust, if you'll let me." This really got Louis' attention. Harry was bound and determined to be friends with him—his rotten disposition and all.

"What are you, a masochist? Who'd wanna be friends with me?"

"I see who you really are, that's why. You're just needin' some understandin' and someone to talk to. I can do that if you want me 'round."

Louis brushed past Harry to go sit on the couch. This guy had him confused and teetering in his mind. He set the bottles of Gatorade and Pepsi on the coffee table, sitting down listlessly.

"Listen, you want me to go home? I don't want to bother you or put you out," Harry sounded forlorn. He was just making every effort to be polite, and Louis knew it.

"No, fuck no! You're not goin' out there in the rain. I just don't know how to act 'round you."

Harry smiled again. "That's easy. Just be yourself."

"I've been _bein'_ meself, and look what's happenin?' I'm insultin' you and actin' like an arse."

"All that will change. We just have to give it time."

"But you don't need to be abused in the meantime." Louis leaned over and dropped his head into his hands, his elbows braced on his knees. He felt sick at the way he was behaving, and so damn guilty, but he couldn't seem to stop giving Harry a hard time. What was wrong with him?

"Maybe you've got a bit of a . . . _mouth_ on you, but you brought me to your house, out of the rain, and you're gonna help me get a battery in the mornin.' Somehow that tells me you aren't all bad. Maybe you've been brainwashed by those . . . people you worked with."

Brainwashed? Louis had never looked at it that way. Well, Harry did have a point about Louis making a real effort to help Harry out. It was just that he was in the habit of being on the ready to protect himself, and with his quick-fire temper on top of that, it was no wonder he had no friends.

"Brainwashed?" Louis was stuck on that idea.

"Yeah. You know, you hear the same negative things all the time, and after a while, you start to believe them. I'm sure you weren't this way before you went into corporate business."

Harry was right. "Well, I've always been a cheeky smart ass, but this is different. I think you're onto sommat. I don't trust anyone, won't let anyone close, and I want friends, yet I cringe to even think about it."

"Do I make you cringe?"

"Actually, no," admitted Louis. "You're not threatenin' at all. You don't come on strong, even though you're persistent. But how do I get past the overblown caution when it comes to talkin' to people, or even bein' near them?"

"By lettin' someone build your trust." Harry eyes nailed his, throwing out some kind of subtle message that Louis wasn't getting.

Harry started in again. "Look, neither of us have friends. I've been hurt by people, and you've been abused by big wig, rich jerks. We can be kind to each other and we can both change. If we can't trust anyone else in this world, we can at least trust each other, yeah? Or at least work on it."

Louis hadn't taken Harry seriously enough. He'd seen him as somewhat of a simpleton. A sweet person, but maybe not the brightest. Louis could see now that Harry had a whole lot more intelligence and depth than he'd given him credit for. He felt guilty _once again_ because he'd just assumed these things about Harry.

There was one way he could start trusting Harry. He had a lot of expensive collectibles in his bedroom. He also had several hundred dollars in his nightstand. If anything went missing, he'd know it. He'd planned on offering Harry his bedroom tonight anyway. He didn't mind sleeping on the couch. His couch was wide and very comfortable. So this would be a good way to test Harry. He wouldn't remove anything—not even the money. He figured it might be the only way to convince himself that Harry was worthy of his trust.

It was shortly after eleven, and both had squinty eyes, yet they continued to talk, neither one wanting the interchange to end. They seemed pulled to one another, yet kept each other at arm's length, mainly Louis.

They were from different worlds, yet constantly discovered things they had in common, whether it was important things or trifling things. They seemed to have the same twisted sense of humor, and as they relaxed and let go, they found they didn't need the telly or anything to distract them from their compelling conversation.

That night, Louis found out Harry had no family. You would never know it, with the sanguine attitude that burst from the guy. You would also never know he had no friends. He was so engaging and full of unique, crazy ideas.

Louis didn't want the night to end, but after telling Harry to help himself to anything in the kitchen or the bathroom, he made up a bed on the couch, and insisted that Harry take the bedroom. Harry, protesting all the way, finally retired to the bedroom after Louis practically shoved him in there, closing the door so Harry would have complete privacy.

Sometime later, Louis turned off the lamp and drifted off to sleep to the sound of the water running in the shower, and trying not to imagine Harry under the water, naked.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't going to work. Louis knew that as soon as he saw Harry the following morning , dressed in the sweats Louis had loaned him last night, with sleepy bedroom eyes, tousled hair, and full pink lips slightly parted, smiling at him.

What a way to wake up! It wasn't going to work. Nope, Louis couldn't imagine being friends with Harry, and wanting him relentlessly all the while. He was _way _too attracted to him. Sooner or later, something was bound to happen. Like, maybe they'd have a bit too much to drink at a club and Louis got too loose, or they both fell asleep on the couch watching the telly, or . . . so many things could launch Louis into serious lust mode. And then it would turn into an instant disaster.

Louis didn't see how he'd resist Harry for long. It was impossible. The green-eyed angel in his apartment was a delicacy, and Louis hadn't been with anyone in some time. Didn't matter though. Even if he'd been with someone five minutes ago, he'd still be drooling over Harry.

The worst of it was, he couldn't tell Harry why they couldn't be friends. It was his deep, dark secret that he hardly shared with anyone, and he was ashamed to admit it to Harry.

"Mind if I take a shower before we go get your battery?" he asked.

"No, not at all. I took one last night."

"I know, I heard you," grumbled Louis dryly.

"I hope it didn't disturb you." There he went, being all polite and _nice_ again.

"Going to sleep to the sound of water is the best thing I can think of," said Louis so Harry wouldn't feel like he was imposing. Besides, it was true.

"You have a toothbrush I can borrow?" Harry looked like he expected Louis to smack him for asking. Was he really _that _intimidating?

"Sure. I have several in the top drawer, still in their packages," Louis indicated the bathroom.

"Thanks! I'll replace it. I'll just go get it, and brush me teeth in the kitchen while you have your shower."

Louis was going to tell Harry they surely had time for him to brush his teeth in the bathroom, but Harry was already rushing in and scrambling out with the package with a green toothbrush inside.

Louis shook his head and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He could hear Harry in the kitchen, so he looked around his bedroom, including the drawer in the nightstand. Nothing was missing, or even touched, for that matter. Okay, so that excuse was out.

Louis showered, trying not to fantasize once again about Harry being in here last night. When he stepped out of the shower, he thought he smelled something, but decided it was his imagination.

But no . . . from under the bathroom door came the smell of sausage. _What?_ Harry was cooking breakfast? Somehow, that seemed absurd. Louis dressed quickly, donning a blue tee-shirt (yeah, he'd been told it matched his eyes perfectly) and black jeans. He padded out to the kitchen in bare feet to find Harry expertly flipping sausage along with sunny-side up eggs that looked like they belonged in a magazine, so amazingly symmetrical they were. Meanwhile, the toaster was browning bread, and it all seemed perfectly timed.

How did he do that? Arrange things so all the food was ready as soon as Louis emerged from the shower? Harry threw him some hardcore dimples and slid the sausage and eggs onto two plates, then transferring them to the table, only to go back and remove the perfectly browned pieces of toast from the toaster. He pulled two cups of water out of the microwave, and set them on the table alongside the instant coffee, sugar, creamer, butter, ketchup, salt and pepper.

"Sit down, Louis. Breakfast is served." Louis thought his eyes would pop out. He sat down obediently, noting the napkin neatly folded under his silverware.

Harry inhaled deeply, standing beside Louis' chair as Louis sat down. "Love that freshly showered smell," he murmured, eyes nearly closed as if he was savoring it.

_Ok, was it Louis' imagination, or what? How many straight guys commented on how good another guy smelled fresh out of the shower? _Now he had Louis was wondering again.

"Oh! Hang on." Harry scampered to the refrigerator and produced two glasses of orange juice, which he also set on the table. "There. I think we're set," he said as if he'd been cooking for the two of them for years.

It was delicious. Louis hadn't cooked breakfast for himself in ages. He hardly knew how, anyway. He could manage a pre-packaged bowl of oatmeal or frozen waffles, but this was like a breakfast his mother might prepare for him.

"When'd you learn to cook Harry? This is great."

"Oh, I like cooking," Harry said, as if that explained everything. "I hope you don't mind."

Louis scratched his head in wonder.

"Of course I don't mind. The only time I have a proper breakfast is if I eat out," he said as he speared a piece of sausage with his fork. Louis was astonished, and just a little bit in awe. Harry was nowhere near as predictable as he would have thought.

"I would've fixed hash browns too, but they take a little more time," Harry mumbled as he wiped his lips with a napkin.

After breakfast, Louis left the dishes soaking in the sink. He looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty.

"What time do your band mates usually get there to practice in the mornin'?" he asked.

"About eight-thirty or nine, dependin.'"

"Oh shit, then we'd better get goin' right now. The dishes'll have to wait."

They rushed out the door, noting the rain had stopped, but had left large puddles everywhere in its wake. They hit Pep Boys first to get the battery, only to find that they didn't open until nine.

"Should've thought of that," Louis grumbled. "Now we'll have to do it while your band mates are there. Will it be a problem?"

Harry looked thoughtful. "Well, they sure as hell aren't gonna be happy to see me."

"We don't need trouble. I'll tell you what. You need to make yourself scarce. I'll take out the old battery, put in the new one, and try to drive outta there before they can ask any questions. You can sit in me Mustang across the parkin' lot. If anyone asks me anythin' I'll say I'm your mechanic or sommat."

Well, Harry's band mates knew he didn't have a mechanic, but Harry didn't say anything.

"You're gonna carry the new battery across the parkin' lot?" he asked.

"Yeah. It only weighs twenty pounds, tops."

"I don't know about this . . . "

"Harry, it's the only way. You don't want it to get towed, do you? You don't want your ex band mates to key it or sommat, do you? We can't afford to wait until tonight. And I don't want you with me. I can just see them causin' trouble. If they treated you the way you said they did, they won't let this go."

They waited around until Pep Boys opened, talking as they had last night, the conversation never lagging. Harry continued to astonish Louis with his wide range of knowledge. He might not be an expert on some things, but he had a decent amount of knowledge about a lot of things.

When Pep Boys opened, they bought the battery, and each went for his wallet at the same time. It was as if they were drawing their guns for a shoot-out, mused Louis with a grin. Harry won out.

Harry dropped Louis off with the battery, and Louis carried it about fifty yards to where the Rover was parked. After getting the old battery out, and just as he was getting ready to drop the new one in, a car pulled up, rolling slowly past the Rover. Too slowly. So slowly that it almost came to a halt.

Louis took care not to give in to the temptation to look at the driver. He just continued with his task, head down.

"Know the guy who owns this Rover?" came a voice from the idling car, which was now at a complete stop.

Louis kept his cool. "Yeah," he said, head still under the hood and not looking up.

"Know where he is?" the voice asked.

Louis paused, not sure what would be most beneficial to say. Beneficial to his health, that was. Louis was hot tempered if provoked, and he knew there were several other band members. He didn't know how many, but if they ganged up on him, chances were, he'd be on the losing end.

"Not sure. I'm just a mechanic here to put the battery in," he said, keeping his voice carefully controlled.

"Sure you're not a friend?" the other guy shot back.

"Hardly know him. I'm in a hurry here, if you don't mind," Louis could hear the guy talking quietly to someone else in the car. So that was at least two guys, and no telling when another band member might show up.

The guy stepped on the gas and parked in front of a building where they began to take instruments out of the car. Louis watched out of the corner of his eye, working as quickly as he could. Another car pulled up to the building just as Louis was finishing connecting the battery. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him. He shut the bonnet and climbed into the Rover, locking the doors and praying that it started up on the first try.

It did. With a sigh of relief, Louis drove the Rover to the other side of the parking lot, going right past his Mustang without stopping or even gesturing to Harry. Harry had seen everything, so he knew what was up, and what to do. He followed Louis and they continued on Vine until they got some distance between themselves and Harry's former band mates. That was when the Rover began to sputter. Louis couldn't believe it. Here he'd narrowly escaped getting beaten into a pulp, and now the Rover was out of gas!

_Really?_

_He was going to strangle Harry._

He pulled over, and Harry followed suit.

"Damn it! The fuckin' thing is outta gas! Harry, _really._"

Harry adopted his sorrowful look, bowing his head in shame. "Oh man, I forgot!" was the extent of his explanation.

"I'll go get a gas can," Louis said with a mighty, weary sigh. "You stay in the Rover. We don't wanna leave it here alone. I'll be right back." Harry approached him, reaching for his wallet, and Louis dodged him, jumping into the mustang.

He returned with a full gas can and proceeded to pour it into Harry's tank while giving Harry a hard look.

"How much was the can and gas?" asked Harry, reaching once again for some money.

"Nothin.' They didn't charge me for the can. And forget about the gas. It was hardly anythin.'"

"Come on! They didn't give you the can for free!"

"Yes they did."

Louis had no idea why he was fibbing about not having to pay for the can. No inkling, even though he was annoyed as hell at Harry for being irresponsible _again._

Louis followed Harry to a gas station to be sure he filled up. Then Harry got a lecture from him on keeping his vehicle maintained, as well as watching his gas gauge.

"I know all that. I've just been . . . distracted lately."

Yes, Harry had been under stress with the way his band members had treated him, and the fact that he'd actually left the band. So Louis knew he should cut him some slack. So he just nodded, bit his tongue, and didn't comment further.

Afterward, they went out to lunch, Harry insisting on paying. He felt conspicuous in Louis' sweats, but he had no other choice. At least he was a good sport about it, Louis thought to himself.

"Tell me about your band mates. You say you're front man?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how will they practice without you?"

"Maybe they thought I'd show up. They're really pissed off, I know that much. You know, I left with no notice. I saw Joe talking to you. What did he say?"

Louis finished his hamburger and sat back. "He just asked if we were friends, and if I knew where you were."

"What'd you say?"

"I said I had no idea, that I was only your mechanic. That's when he drove over to the building. How many members are there?"

"Just three besides me."

"Well, you'd better stay outta their way. If I were you, I'd change me name, get a different vehicle, and get another apartment—out of state," Louis was joking about the other stuff, but he did think Harry should change apartments, and maybe even consider changing his vehicle too.

"I'm glad they didn't jump ya," said Harry quietly. "If you'd given 'em lip, they would have. In fact, I think you got out of there just in time, as it was."

Louis nodded. "I figured that. Where's your phone? Haven't they been blowin' it up?"

"I'm sure they have. That's why it's turned off," explained Harry.

"That's probably best for now."

What was Louis going to do with Harry? He needed to start walking dogs in less than half an hour.

"I need to go to work," he said. "But I really don't want you goin' home. They might pay you a visit."

Harry agreed. "Yeah, I think I'll stay away from me apartment for a while. Get a motel for a week. One of those reasonably priced ones."

"Hey, no need for that," Louis said, aware that it would cost Harry a couple hundred at least. And it was not necessary, after all.

"Remember I have an apartment. You can shack up there until you can find yourself another one."

"You think I should really move out?" asked Harry.

Louis nodded solemnly. "Absolutely. When they find out you aren't comin' back, they'll come after you. They sound like hard asses. You can give your landlord thirty days' notice. Tell him the situation if you have to, and I'm sure he'll let you out of the lease."

"It's month to month."

"Good. Then you can just square things up with him, and we'll get you moved out."

"I feel bad that all this is happenin.' I mean, all you did was stop that day to give me a jump, and it snowballed into this," Harry sounded forlorn. "I bet you wish you never met me."

Louis shook his head adamantly. "It's just the way things happened. Not your fault," He dismissed it like it was nothing.

Harry was liking him more by the minute. The guy was bending over backward for him, and they hadn't even known each other for that long. He hated inconveniencing him as much as he had. And now he would be doing even more of it by staying at his apartment.

"Well, let's get back to me place. You can do whatever since you have your Rover back, and the vehicle is _safe now,"_ the corners of Louis' lips tweaked up just a bit. "I'm gonna go walk me dogs for the day."

"Can I watch?" There it was again, Harry afraid enough of dogs to stay at a distance, but just the same, his desire to be with Louis must have, in part, overridden it. And for some reason, that pleased Louis just a little bit.

"Sure," Louis replied. "How much of a distance? Just so I know."

Harry swallowed hard, and Louis saw how much of an effort it was for him to put on a brave face.

"Oh, maybe half a block," he said unsteadily.

Louis almost gasped. Half a block? That would be hard to accomplish in Hollywood. So many people milling around that Louis feared they'd lose each other. But really, how can you lose someone who is walking four or five dogs? He was going to the dog park too, of course, and he wondered how that would go.

"Let's give it a go then," he said cheerfully.

They dropped the Rover off at Louis' apartment, using his assigned garage instead of the car port, and took the Mustang to Harry's apartment to get some of his clothes and other personal items.

In this time slot he was taking Chester the Pointer, and Trinket, the Shih Tzu, along with two newbies. He hoped all would go well. No use in making Harry's already high level of fear escalate.

The newbies turned out to be two very happy, carefree mutts, belonging to the same elderly owner, and, as their owner had promised, got along very well with other dogs. Sometimes the owners tended to fib about their dogs' dispositions. He'd heard, "Oh! He's never done _that_ before!" way too many times. He got lucky today, however.

Harry disappeared at the other end of the street, or so it seemed. He was so far away, he looked like an ant, mused Louis. You couldn't miss him though, even at a distance. That long, lanky form, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, moseying along. Louis just walked the dogs at the speed he usually did and trusted Harry would keep him in sight.

When he arrived at the dog park, he let the dogs loose, and then just stood outside the gate and waited for Harry. Pretty soon, Harry slunk over to him, taking care to be very unremarkable, not letting himself stick out in any way, and Louis assumed he was hoping no dogs would notice him.

They were only about six feet from the fence, and the dogs were running and playing, Harry watching their every move. Louis could tell Harry was ready to bolt at the slightest hint that a dog was going to get near the fence.

"You don't have to stand so close to the fence, Harry," said Louis. "You can stand farther back, wherever you want."

"But then I can't talk to you without yellin.'"

"That doesn't matter. Your comfort level is what is important." He could see the anxiety building every second that Harry stood there, so he tried to take his mind off the dogs by asking him questions.

"What do you want to do tonight? You gonna cook dinner for me?"

Harry was only half paying attention, keeping at least one eye on the dogs at all times.

"Sure. We can stop by the store and get ingredients for whatever you're cravin.' I noticed there isn't much in the way of food in your apartment."

Harry somehow got the sentences out without forgetting what he was talking about, which was a miracle, because he was so focused on the dogs.

Suddenly, Chester, the Pointer, ran at the fence and jumped up on it, front feet planted, looking at Louis and wondering why he was outside of the dog yard.

Harry reacted instantly. He wheeled and literally ran down the street. Louis was pretty sure Harry had thought the dog was going to scale the fence and tear him apart.

"Harry! Harry! It's okay!" but Harry was already out of earshot, way down the street. Luckily, in Hollywood, no one paid any mind to people who acted strangely.

Louis was torn. He could go after Harry, or go back to the dogs. In the end, his loyalty lay with the dogs. They were his responsibility, and he was accountable for their safety. He went back into the dog park and allowed the dogs to stay half an hour, even though he was worried sick about Harry. Harry wouldn't do something foolish like run out into traffic, thinking a dog was chasing him, would he? Louis did right by the dogs, and let them run and work off their excess energy. After he took them home, he'd go look for Harry.

Later, Louis removed the now-leashed dogs from the dog park, walked them a little longer, and returned them to their homes after exactly an hour had passed. He felt practically frantic about Harry, but couldn't figure out why. The guy was an adult and could take care of himself.

Now free of dogs, and inching away from the customer who was determined to tell him all about what his dogs ate, where they slept, and their bathroom habits, he smiled and said, "Well, I'm off to get me next shift of canines!" And he scurried off, the customer continuing to rattle on as if Louis was still on his doorstep. The older man was lonely, and wanted to talk. Louis understood that, and he would normally talk for a few minutes, but he was fretting so much about Harry that he felt he had to get away, and _now._ Harry had been gone about forty minutes.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he scanned the street, and finally spied Harry, about half a block away, having what looked like a heated argument with a guy. Or rather, the guy was the only one who appeared particularly angry. He was advancing on Harry, even though they only stood barely two feet apart. Harry was trying to stand up to him, but things didn't look favorable for him from where Louis was.

Louis began walking faster, and before long he figured out the guy who was becoming more and more angry and animated was Joe, the member of the band who had confronted Louis. He'd only gotten a bare glimpse of him the other day, but he remembered the distinctly greasy copper colored hair and long mustache. It had to be him.

About then, the Joe guy began to shove Harry. Harry tried to shove back. He was trying to be assertive, but all it earned him was another rough shove that almost toppled him over. Louis had a feeling Harry didn't know how to fight.

Suddenly overcome with rage, Louis accelerated into a run. Why he was so angry was beyond his understanding. He abhorred bullying in any form, but this fury coursing through him was still out of proportion.

All Louis could think of was that Harry was in trouble, clearly didn't know how to defend himself, and the guy was taking advantage of that. After what seemed an eternity, Louis at last reached the two men, and his hand shot out, grabbing the back of the guy's shirt and yanking him backward, flinging him onto the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

Joe, Harry's ex-band mate had the wind knocked out of him. He looked up after gasping a couple of times to see a red-faced, fuming Louis, appearing fully ready for a fight, should it come to that.

"What the bloody hell is _wrong _with you?" Louis demanded. Joe, having temporarily had the wind stolen from his sails, got to his feet. He was an inch or two taller than Louis, but built heavier. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight.

But Louis had grown up in a rough neighborhood. He'd learned from a fairly early age how to street fight. He'd had to-either that or be beaten up regularly. With his slim build, guys would sometimes try to pick on him, thinking they could score another victory that would make them look tougher. That was why, later on, Louis had taken up lifting weights, and countless hours of football had muscled his legs.

Joe suddenly lunged at Louis, and Louis smoothly side-stepped so the guy kept on going, hitting the sidewalk again.

"I don't think you wanna keep doin' that," advised Louis with a slightly amused, yet deadly gleam in his eye. "You're gonna end up hurtin' yourself."

Some of Joe's sass was missing this time. "Harry did me wrong. He did _all _of us wrong," he protested. "And you're the one who was putting a battery in his Rover. You said you didn't know him."

"So, I lied," Louis taunted. "And from what I've heard from Harry, he wasn't treated with respect in that band. It's a good thing he got out when he did."

"Fuckin' faggot," the guy grumbled in Harry's general direction as he got to his feet again. Louis took his eyes off Joe for just a second to look at Harry-see his reaction to what had been said. Harry's cheeks were bright red. That was when Louis knew Joe was speaking the truth. Harry was gay. Otherwise, he wouldn't be blushing, right?

"Shut up, Joe!" cried Harry. But he didn't deny what Joe had said. Louis had to admire him for that.

Joe didn't make any moves toward either Harry or Louis, so Louis knew he was thinking twice about causing more trouble. He could sense Louis wasn't afraid of him.

"I see you anywhere near Harry again, and I'll do a lot more than let you fall on your face again," Louis warned.

Fear flashed across Joe's face, but he covered it with an attempt at bravado. "How are we supposed to be a band now?" he demanded, although his tone was weaker.

Harry spoke up. "That's your problem now. You blew your chances with me. I'll find a band that listens to me ideas; lets me sing some things I want to, where it's give and take instead of just catering to you and your preferences in music. I'm a human bein' and I deserve to be heard."

Louis felt like puffing up his chest and beating it like a gorilla. That's how proud he was of Harry.

Joe tried again to put on a superior act as he walked back to his car, a new turquoise Camaro. He was too chicken shit to do anything else. Evidently he'd seen Harry alone on the street and had pulled over to start something. That's what Louis was assuming.

After he'd driven away, Harry turned to Louis. "God, I'm sorry. I just keep makin' trouble for you, don't I?"

"You're not exactly low maintenance," admitted Louis with a teasing grin. "You know how to fight?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so. You were shovin' him back though, and that shows spirit. You have spunk in you, Harry. You just don't show it most of the time. I'll teach you how to defend yourself if you want me to."

Harry's eyes danced. "I want!" he chortled.

"Okay, I've got more dogs to walk. I'll be done in a couple more hours. But please. . . try to stay out of trouble until I'm done, okay?"

Harry nodded shyly. "I don't see why you don't dump me off somewhere. All I've done is make your life chaos."

Louis didn't know what Harry did after that, but he didn't see him until he was done. Taking another look around, and still not seeing him, he got into his Mustang and went back to his apartment. Harry was already there, and there were sandwiches on the table. Nothing fancy. Just egg salad with chips and pickles on the side, but it looked exceptionally good to Louis. He also noticed the dishes he'd left in the sink this morning had been washed and put away.

Neither one of them was voraciously hungry, still being upset about the earlier incident, but they managed to finish their sandwiches.

"Alright, what exactly happened with the band that rainy night?" asked Louis once they were sitting on the couch.

"Well, like I told you, I was fed up, couldn't take another second of it, and walked out."

"How long had you been with the band?"

"A few years."

"What are the other members like? Are they as bad as greasy Joe?"

Harry smiled. "They tend to follow his lead, yeah. Like, if he were to, um, start a fight or sommat, they'd jump in, whether he was right or wrong."

"That's what I was afraid of. We'll have to keep a keen eye out for them when we're away from the apartment. Joe proved that today. Right now though, I can show you a few things."

"Do you do martial arts?" asked Harry.

Louise chuckled. "No, nothin' fancy like that. All I do is street fight, and that only when necessary. Growin' up in Doncaster, it was a necessary skill."

Louis began to show Harry basic self-defense moves. He could tell Harry was straining to cram as much into his head as he could. After a while, Louis said, "And if you find yourself in a good position to do it, you can always just kick 'em in the knees or the balls. Kick _hard_. No waterin' it down. If they're gonna fight dirty, you just give it right back to 'em. After they start to crumple, give 'em a hard chop to the shoulder, like I showed you, then, once they go down, kick 'em in the ribs for good measure."

"Wow, I'd like to see you in action," Harry murmured, looking slightly starstruck.

"Remember, I only do it when I absolutely have to," Louis reminded him. "You saw how I didn't even try to hit Joe. I let him dig his own grave. But if they keep comin' after you, you'll have to employ some boorish moves. To save your own hide."

After Harry had practiced what Louis had taught him for a while, Louis suggested they stop for the day.

"We need to suit me up so you can practice on me. Doin' it to an actual person instead of just the air is different. It feels different, obviously. I have a suit that's padded that I can wear, and maybe tomorrow we can start with that. You can hit and kick me as hard as you want and you won't hurt me. Then if you have a real-life situation come up, you'll know just what to do."

Harry shook his head. "What if I freeze out of fear?"

"You won't," Louis returned confidently. "We'll practice every day until it becomes second nature. Muscle memory is what you call it. I'll come at you in a lot of different ways, and you'll learn how to react with each one. It'll become automatic."

That night, they made a quick run to the grocery store, and Harry made a chicken stir-fry dinner for them.

Louis was having trouble concentrating, however. Harry was _very_ distracting. His very long, elegant fingers working with Louis' spatula, which wasn't fancy, but got the job done, had Louis staring as if he was hypnotized. Harry was efficient and quick, and he took to cooking so naturally that he could have been a chef. Louis found himself entranced by Harry's forearms, which were exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. He found this a lot more sexy than he should have. Harry's arms were corded and it was all Louis could do to hold himself back from touching the man.

The chicken was tender, the vegetables just crispy enough. They talked with ease, as they almost always did, but Louis could not stop thinking about how Joe had called Harry a faggot. Harry hadn't brought it up, and Louis doubted he would, but the curiosity was really getting to him.

How did Joe know Harry was gay? Had Harry been open about it? And if so, then why wasn't Harry being open about it with him? Was Joe just calling him the worst name he could think of? Or was Harry ashamed of it, or perhaps just not the type to bring it up unless asked?

Louis had these and a lot of other questions, but he preferred to wait until he and Harry knew each other better, or when Harry seemed receptive.

"Think me shoes are dry yet?" asked Harry as they gathered their dishes to take to the kitchen.

"Don't know. You go check on 'em and I'll do the dishes." Louis said this with conviction, or else he knew Harry would try to do the dishes. He had cooked—it was Louis' turn.

Harry came back a couple minutes later. "I think they'll be dry by tomorrow—_maybe. _I hope they won't be ruined."

"I don't think so. I've soaked trainers before and they were almost good as new after they'd dried. Tell me more about the band. If I come up against them, I'll need the advantage of knowing as much as possible."

"Well," Harry pondered this, probably deciding what was most relevant.

"Norman is a follower, like Doug. Like I told you, Joe is the leader. Joe would tell me I needed to get into the more trendy music, and they would agree with him just to be on his good side."

"_Trendy,_ huh? I hate trendy. If I like it, I like it. If I don't, I don't. But I don't go for it just 'cause it's trendy," remarked Louis, making a sour face that made Harry smile.

"You've nailed it!" Harry seemed happy that Louis understood. "That's how I feel. Sure, you have to play stuff the audience wants to hear, but listeners are just as versatile as the rest of us. They don't necessarily want to listen to just one genre or style. I tried to add variety; a little snippet of this, a taste of that, along with some of the stuff I like, but that didn't go over well."

"If you were front man, you definitely should've had a say about what music was played, and what you sang, yeah?" Louis was trying to get a grasp on exactly how this music business went.

"You got it," Harry confirmed. "And they were takin' advantage of me meek personality, and usin' it to pressure me. It got to the point where I knew I had to get out." Harry looked jittery again, as if he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he'd actually quit the band; that it was a reality. Louis concluded it must be very surreal to him right now.

"You did the right thing," soothed Louis. "Things'll be fine."

"Yeah, and guess I'd better get it over with and look at me phone too," Harry said it as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. He and Louis were still in the kitchen as Louis finished washing the dishes. Turning his phone on, Harry displayed the cutest grimace while checking his messages.

"Yep, they blew it up alright. No less than twelve messages from Joe. I'm not even gonna listen to 'em," and with that, he began to delete them with an air of finality and a smile.

"Well done!" Louis joined in the glee of Harry's self-professed freedom.

Louis saw pride in the younger man's face, and Louis wondered if Harry had ever asserted himself in a way that was this zealous. He also hoped it wouldn't be the last time.

Louis had more questions for Harry-a lot more. But he didn't want to stick his nose into Harry's life uninvited. He'd been too pushy with Harry a couple of times already, and that wasn't the way to make a good impression on a new friend.

"Sit down," Louis suggested as he parked his own butt on the couch. He was jarred when Harry sat down right next to him._ Right_ next to him. His knee was actually touching Louis' knee. Deciding to see if Harry would correct that situation, he did nothing. Human nature fascinated him, and Harry was a very good subject. You could practically read Harry's mind by watching his face, but right now . . . Louis had to admit he was stumped. Harry acted as if he'd sat this close to Louis a hundred times. His face was washed of any corruption or naughtiness. Harry, _corrupted?_ The mere thought made Louis want to laugh. But he didn't. He wouldn't be able to explain himself without sounding like some kind of tongue-tied guilty weirdo.

Because it mattered to him . . . what Harry thought of him. Why? He wasn't entirely sure.

"Would you mind if I asked how you feel about livin' here, in the US, and away from England?" The thought had trickled from Louis' mouth, having escaped from his mental meanderings. He supposed it was as if he was thinking aloud.

But Harry didn't look upset or startled. Just . . . tentative and kind of on-the-fence, if Louis wasn't mistaken. Like he couldn't decide how much to tell Louis about his personal life, his feelings.

"I think I already told you I have no family left," he said plainly, hesitating a little bit, but without a trace of compunction. Louis nodded.

"Yes, you did. But . . . do you want to talk about it? Or would it bother you, or maybe you feel I shouldn't be askin'?" Louis tried to phrase it openly, so Harry wouldn't feel obligated to answer, or feel boxed in.

"Me parents . . . well, as you know, I don't have any siblin's. Anyway, me parents were comin' home from a party. I was stayin' overnight with a neighbor kid my age. A sleepover. Anyway, they crashed. Far as I know, me mother was killed instantly. Me father died later that night. I was told later on that they'd been drinkin.' Just enough to impair me father's judgment on the road. They weren't drunks—only drank socially. I wasn't told about the drinkin' part until a few months later because what kid needs to be told that straightaway? Anyway, there were no other people or cars involved. Me dad lost control, rolled down a ravine."

Louis nodded. So now he knew. For Harry to lose both parents so suddenly—well, it was beyond his comprehension.

"I'm sorry. How old were you?"

"Oh, I was almost eighteen. Was plannin' on movin' out soon. So it wasn't like I was a little kid or anythin.'"

Louis was floored. Harry didn't seem to be feeling a bit of pity for himself.

"How old are you now?" Louis just realized he didn't even know Harry's age.

"Twenty-seven." Louis would have thought he was a few years younger.

"So it's been a while."

"Yeah."

"Were you close to your parents?"

"Oh yeah. I was a mama's boy," Harry blushed. "And me dad and I were a lot alike."

"You know," Harry continued. "Sometimes it seems like just yesterday, and sometimes it seems like several lifetimes ago."

Louis felt a dull pain in his chest. This young man, only two years younger than himself, was so accepting that he had no one left in the world, and had such a positive, animated, bright attitude about life.

"Tell me about your family now," Harry's gaze was fastened on Louis.'

Well, Louis couldn't very well just not answer, or shine him on. He owed him his own story.

"I still have both me parents. I have a sister too." He felt guilty. Guilty that he had family, and Harry did not.

"Are you guys close?"

"Yes, but with them bein' in England and me bein' here—it's hard sometimes. I fly back to see them once or twice a year, but I talk to them on the phone a lot."

"Isn't it expensive to fly back there?" Louis knew Harry must know how much it cost to fly to England, as he was from there himself.

"Yeah, but . . ." Louis supposed that, now that Harry had proved he could be trusted, he could be a little more open; tell him a little more. "I have some money saved from when I was in finance."

Harry nodded, his expression not changing. That was a good thing. It meant he was neutral, not money hungry, although Louis already knew he wasn't the type that expected things of people, monetary or otherwise. Louis was just holding on to that last thread of caution.

"Do you ever get lonely?" Louis' mouth had formed the words, and they'd leaked out, but he wasn't sure how. He hadn't meant to ask that, and even worse, hadn't meant it to sound like it had. His wayward mind had caused him to think out loud.

But Harry was not presumptuous enough to read things into what Louis said.

"Yeah," he said in his low, sexy voice. He wasn't trying to sound sexy though. He was just stating a fact. The sexy tone was just innate with Harry, decided Louis. Inborn and natural.

"With no family, you don't have plans. And you're afraid to make friends because you're afraid you'll lose 'em like you lost your family."

Now Louis' gut cramped up. It was a lot worse than the earlier dull pain in his chest. He wanted to retch, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. Why was he so fortunate to have his family, and Harry . . . Harry who was so sweet and wonderful, did not? There wasn't any fairness in that.

He couldn't talk. He was afraid that if he tried, he'd wig out, lose his cool, start bawling like a baby. Okay, now he _had_ to be Harry's friend. If Harry wanted that. He supposed he already was, _hoped_ he was, as Harry was staying at his apartment, even if only temporarily.

Harry's leg still rested against his lightly, Harry seemingly oblivious to it. Did he need the physical contact? Maybe that was it. Harry didn't have a girlfriend (whoops-_boyfriend)_ to touch, or even a voice on the other end of the phone-a relative, who would say, "I love you." He didn't even have that much, damn it! So Louis was not going to pull his leg away and leave Harry with that cold, empty space.

"I'm . . . um, sorry about what Joe said." Harry was, for all intents and purposes, pushing the words out. Louis saw the degree of difficulty written all over the younger man's face. How his cheeks colored up and how he stiffened slightly.

"What?" asked Louis, wondering if his hunch was right about what Harry was going to say.

"When . . . when he called me . . . a, well, _you know."_

Oh my God! Harry had brought it up himself! Louis hadn't even had to ask, although he hadn't planned on it tonight anyway.

"Yeah, that was wicked. And not in the _good_ wicked way." Louis' next question to himself was whether or not Harry would confirm it. It would be so easy to say it wasn't true. Guys often called each other terrible names out of anger, even if there wasn't a pinch of truth to it.

So Louis waited to see if Harry would confirm or deny. He didn't.

"Joe's got a frightful temper," Harry said mildly, as if that explained it.

Okay, well, Louis had been hoping Harry would make a confession, so that maybe, somewhere on down the road, he could make one himself. But he did have to keep in mind that it was very possible that Joe really had just said the meanest thing he could think of to get back at Harry. Harry might not be gay at all.

Feeling Harry needed at least a brief break from this line of conversation, Louis kept talking.

"Do you play an instrument?" Louis was really engrossed in finding out about Harry and his love for music and singing.

"No. I've messed around with piano, but as of right now, I only sing. The other guys wouldn't let me touch their instruments."

What a bunch of bastards! It made Louis fume. It wasn't as if Harry would ever damage anything.

"Can I hear you sing sommat? Or do you not do that without the band?"

"Oh, I love singin,' I do it whenever. Spontaneously, usually."

"Okay," Louis wasn't sure if that meant Harry would sing him some acapella, or if he had to wait.

Harry didn't offer to sing, however, and Louis didn't broach the subject again.

Around midnight they retired, Harry once again trying to get Louis to take the bedroom.

"No, you're a guest, and I told you this couch is comfortable."

"A guest that was thrust upon you," Harry said gloomily.

"That's not true. You wouldn't be here if I minded havin' you here."

Harry supposed there was a chance that Louis' words could have been a compliment.

In the morning, Louis took his shower after Harry. Harry was somewhat of an early riser, so it worked out, even though they only had the one bathroom.

When Louis walked out of the bedroom, hair messed up from being towel dried, bare above the waist, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, Harry's mouth went slack.

_Oh my God._

He knew he was staring, but he was afraid he'd miss something if he looked away. And he didn't _want_ to look away. His eyes wanted to keep eating Louis up.

Louis was looking sexier to him all the time. Especially now that Louis had stopped harassing him verbally. He had mostly ceased to be a threat, and temptation was slipping in to take its place. Louis might roar sometimes, but Harry was getting to know the kitten underneath.

The muscling that clothes tended to minimize were in plain sight now. The hair on his chest, the trim waist, the belly that didn't quite sport a six-pack, but very close to it. Harry loved it all.

Seeing Harry's avid eyes, Louis felt exposed, and desperately wished he'd put a shirt on before exiting the bedroom.

"Wanna start with some self-defense moves?" he asked Harry, speaking speedily so as to get the notion out of his head that Harry was staring at his body. It couldn't possibly be true. It was just his imagination. Still, he'd never felt quite this modest before. And if Harry really_ was _staring, he was probably wishing Louis would put on more clothes.

"I'll go suit up, and we'll see if we can get you practicin' the basics on me," and Louis slipped back into the bedroom.

Damn, but Harry would have given the world for Louis to have stayed here, half-naked, so he could stare at him all day.


	9. Chapter 9

Louis looked like a blow-up doll in his thick, cushy suit. And Harry loved that it was purple. Louis was all business, and worked Harry pretty hard. He wanted to be sure Harry would know at least some essentials should he come up against Joe or his other two ex-band members.

Harry applied himself, and he was a fast learner, Louis had to admit. He remembered everything Louis had shown him last night.

"Gotta go to work in half an hour," Louis declared as he went back into the bedroom to change again. Harry began working on some pancakes, and had them done in scarcely ten minutes.

"Microwave bacon is fast!" he said in excitement upon finding bacon in Louis' fridge. Of course, Harry's pancakes were just as good as the other stuff he'd cooked since he'd been here.

They ate, and then Louis thanked him, saying he hardly ever had time for a decent breakfast.

"You gonna watch at a distance again today?" he asked as they went out the door.

"Sure. But more of a distance than yesterday."

Louis wanted to giggle at the memory of Harry hauling ass down the street, but he schooled himself carefully. Harry must never, ever be made to feel foolish because of his fear of dogs.

So, with Harry trailing behind, Louis walked the dogs, frequently turning to be sure Joe wasn't in the vicinity with his sites on Harry. Louis really doubted he'd try anything again. At least, not for a while.

After Louis' work day was done, he and Harry sat in a park near where the dog park was, eating sandwiches they'd grabbed at a deli and sipping lemonade.

"So how much rent?" asked Harry out of the blue.

"What?"

"How much rent do I owe you?"

"Bollocks! I don't want any bloody rent!" Louis looked as if he was offended.

"I _have_ to pay rent! I wouldn't feel right if I didn't!"

"Look, you cook, you've been helpin' me keep the place neat and tidy. And you said you'd pay for the food every other shoppin' day. What more could I want?"

"Louis, I'm sleepin' in your bedroom, with you sleepin' on the couch in your own apartment!"

"Sooooo?" Louis' tone was challengingly playful. "I told you I have sizeable savings."

"I have money saved up too. And I'm gettin' another job with a band. Even with payin' rent, I can take a few weeks or months off."

Louis hadn't realized how much money Harry really had socked away. The gigs must have paid very well for Harry to be able to pay rent all the time he was with the band, buy his food, and so forth, and still have quite a bit of money in the bank. Even though Louis had no idea how much he _actually_ had.

Louis changed the subject. "Tonight, maybe we can go talk to your landlord and start movin' your stuff out."

"Okay. I was gonna suggest the weekend, but you probably just like restin' on the weekend, yeah?"

"No, I still work out, and with workin' so few hours a day, I have time to get things done and still have chill time pretty much all week," explained Louis. "So it really doesn't matter if it's a weekday or weekend."

"I need to start lookin' for another apartment too."

Louis tried to sound offhand when he said, "No rush for that."

"I'm crowdin' you outta your own apartment!"

"Well, look. Neither of us has any friends. It's kind of a nice change for me," Louis admitted. "But," he added quickly, "I'm sure you want a place of your own."

Harry shrugged. "I'm enjoyin' the change too."

Just the opening Louis had wanted. Sounding too eager wouldn't do. "Then no more discussion is necessary; at least for now," Louis said, leaving no room for Harry to protest. "You have a lotta furniture? If so, we'll have to find a storage unit. As you know, there's no room in me apartment for more furniture."

"Oh no, I rented the place furnished. All I have are me clothes and the usual personal stuff. Not much."

"Perfect. We can talk to your landlord, and hopefully he'll be understandin' and let you move out right away, or at least by the end of the month." The end of the month was only nine days away anyway.

That evening, Louis met Harry's landlord, who was more upset about losing Harry as a tenant than anything else.

"Aw, Harry. You're such a good boy," the older man grumbled good-naturedly. "Always pay rent on time or early, never trash the apartment, never have loud parties. What am I gonna do without you?"

"I'll still come by and visit," said Harry, and Louis had no doubt he would. "And I'll pay until the end of the month."

Mr. Messick waved his hand. "I've got a list of people waiting for a unit. I'm sure I'll get someone in here within a few days. I'm just so sorry to see you go, Harry."

"Well, I wouldn't be leavin' except me band mates and I broke up, and one of 'em is causin' trouble. So I'll be stayin' with me friend Louis, here, until I can find another place, so they won't know where I am."

Mr. Messick scratched his head. "Oh, I see. I know you haven't been exactly happy with that band for a while now. I don't think they're good for you. Or good _enough_ for you either. Never did, if my opinion counts for anything."

"Sure it does," amenable Harry assured him.

"I don't like how they treated you like you weren't the most important member, when everyone knew you were."

Harry flushed. "No one was the most important member," he objected.

"Oh, I beg to differ. Your voice alone made you the most important. Have you heard this guy sing?" Mr. Messick asked of Louis. Unfortunately Louis had to shake his head in the negative.

"Oh, you haven't_ lived_ until you've heard Harry sing!"

It almost seemed to Louis like he was the only one who hadn't heard Harry sing, and it made him feel a little left out.

"I was in the shower and Mr. Messick was knockin' and I didn't hear him so he walked in, wonderin' if I was alright," clarified Harry. "That's when he heard me singin.'"

"Sings like an angel," declared Mr. Messick. "But at the same time he sounds smoky and raw. Ain't never heard another voice quite like it."

Harry was very nearly crumpling over with embarrassment, so Louis suggested they start moving things out smoothly enough so that Mr. Messick didn't feel like they were trying to evade him.

It didn't take long. The apartment was already clean, so all they had to do was remove Harry's clothes and a few boxes of belongings, and mopped their way out of the kitchen, leaving the apartment ready for new tenants.

Mr. Messick wrote Harry a check for the days Harry wouldn't be using and the security deposit, sighing as he handed it over, clearly a little distressed that he was losing such a good tenant.

After more promises that he'd visit, Harry let himself be led to his Rover by Louis' grip on his sleeve an hour later, the Rover now being neatly packed with his stuff.

"Will it all fit in your apartment? I can get storage."

"No, Harry. That's not necessary. I have a couple of closets. We should be able to fit it all in fine. I'll have you put on the lease too."

"Wait! This is only temporary though!" Harry dissented.

"I know that. I just want to be sure I don't get in trouble for havin' someone here that's not on the lease." Louis was proud of himself for coming up with that so fast. He wouldn't mind having Harry stay there permanently. It was obvious Harry was easy-going enough for that to be a no-brainer, but he wasn't sure how Harry felt about it, so he left it open for the time being.

"That's a relief to already be moved out," remarked Harry as they carried his stuff into Louis' apartment. It was a tight fit, but they got everything into the closets and were creative in arranging things here and there—things Harry had collected. Keepsakes of sorts. And Louis had to admit they went well with his apartment. He liked Harry's taste too. The picture of the ocean crashing against rocks went well on the living room wall, the picture of the Baobab trees at sunset in Africa in the hallway. Louis only had a couple of paintings, and instantly found he liked Harry's much more. He made quick work of putting his own pictures into the bedroom closet in favor of Harry's.

"You don't have to worry about greasy Norman payin' you a visit here," said Louis, feeling relief himself at the thought.

"Yeah, it's a big load off me mind. I'm so grateful to you for openin' your apartment to me. I don't know how to tell you . . . what it means."

"Stop with the sappy stuff already. It's makin' me wanna cry," Louis mocked, but his voice didn't reflect real annoyance. He was only too aware that he was used to hiding behind sarcasm. It was becoming obvious to him now that Harry was around. It had been a handy buffer, helped him save face on certain occasions. But there was no real need for it with Harry.

"Why do you always rely on humor when you're in danger of showin' or bein' exposed to emotions?" Harry asked with quite a profound look on his face.

Louis flopped down on the couch, pushing the fringe back from his eyes, and shaking his head slowly while looking at Harry in disbelief.

"You say the damndest things," he said.

"But it's true," this was delivered solemnly as Harry also sat down.

How could he argue with it? Harry was right. Louis preferred to be ready with some kind of joke or flip remark should a conversation get too deep or make him feel discomfited. It was a tactic that had served him well as a financial advisor, but in friendships or relationships, not so much. It tended to turn people off. He knew he overdid it. He also supposed he wasn't_ real_ enough.

But did it turn Harry off? Not a chance. Harry was tenacious and unorthodox. While polite almost to a fault, he also liked to probe, and his honest, plain-spoken manner actually encouraged Louis to open up a little without fully knowing how much he was revealing. That was because he was too much in awe.

Louis' attraction to Harry gave Harry quite an advantage. Although he didn't yet know how drawn Harry was to him, his very manner of doing and saying things awakened Louis' intrigue with the younger man. Never had Louis been so utterly enchanted with another human being.

Harry was a walking enigma, yet he was so transparent at the same time. Louis wanted to crawl into his mind and examine all the working parts, one by one. Find out what really made Harry tick. That would be a trip.

"Mr. Messick really thinks a lot of you, yeah?" he mentioned casually.

"He's just a nice man."

"More than that. He described your singin' voice as 'smoky.' What does that mean?"

"Raw, strong, sultry, is what he told me," Harry's cheeks were flaming again. "He used to be into music himself when he was a young lad."

"So why has just about everyone else on the planet heard you sing, and I haven't?" Louis spouted, feeling like a spoiled child.

"Everyone on the planet?"

"Well, the band, Mr. Messick, all the gigs where you played. That's a lotta people." Louis knew he sounded like he was sulking. And Harry, for some reason, clammed up.

When no one had spoken for several minutes, Louis decided it was time to stop trying to avoid intimate conversations. It wasn't good for their friendship, and for some reason, this troubled Louis. Well hell, Harry was his only friend! Why jeopardize a potentially good thing?

"Do you have sommat against me hearin' you sing?" he asked.

"No. But . . . " Harry ran his hand through his luxurious dark hair, sweeping it back from his forehead. He shifted, briefly creating a cool spot where his leg disconnected with Louis,' but it returned within a millisecond. He wiggled as if seeking comfort, and not quite finding it.

"No but what?" Louis prodded.

"Okay, so, um . . . I might be, just a little bit um . . . _shy_ about havin' you listen to me sing."

This blew Louis away. "Shy? Whatever why? You've been singin' for years, in front of hundreds or maybe thousands of people over that time. Why would you be shy about it?"

"Not shy about _it,_ but . . . shy in front of _you_."

Well now, was this going to open a can of worms? Louis was a little scared to ask just exactly what Harry meant.

"Have you gone mad? Why should you be embarrassed to sing in front of me?"

"Well, it isn't a proper settin' for one, and for another, you unsettle me when I think of singin' with you watchin' me."

Louis thrust himself up from the couch. "Fine. You don't want to sing in front of me, I don't care. Don't give a rat's ass. It's not that important, so forget about it." Louis was angry and hurt. Angry that Harry would single him out to not give him the pleasure of hearing his voice, and hurt because Harry didn't hesitate to sing in front of others.

"Hey, I'll sing for you. But I have to do a proper job."

Louis squinted at him. "And just what would that entail?"

"You can't see me when I sing for you for the first time. I have to be in another room."

"Why?"

"I told you—I'm shy. After a couple of times, I should be okay."

Well, Louis wasn't going to beg.

"It's gettin' late. Want a snack before bed?" he asked, acting as if he'd forgotten the prior subject. He wasn't going to let Harry think he was weird for fixating on hearing the young man sing. He began to make sandwiches in the kitchen. They were both tired, and cooking was too far-fetched tonight.

Harry walked in and nudged him out of the way, taking over the task. He made tuna sandwiches with relish and red onion. Louis pulled out a bag of chips.

"We need to go shoppin'," Harry remarked. "There really isn't enough food in the house to make proper meals."

"Who needs proper meals?"

"Don't you want yummy meals?" with the change of wording, Louis decided he could gladly go for more of Harry's cooking.

"Vegetables, lettuce for salad, fruit, whole grains. You'll be healthier," Harry gently advised him.

"Yeah, whatever," Louis muttered.

As soon as they were done eating and had agreed to go shopping the next day, Harry went to take a shower.

Louis, who was washing the dishes, heard a muffled voice. Cocking his head, he tried to place where it was coming from. The shower. And it took him a moment to process the fact that Harry wasn't talking—he was singing!

Louis darted to the hallway, suddenly eager and excited, and stood a few feet from the bathroom door, leaning against the wall, listening intently. If anything, Mr. Messick had not stressed the point strongly enough that Harry sounded fantastic.

Now, Louis had no experience with the music business, but he could carry a tune himself, and he could recognize the quality in Harry's voice. And it was certainly sultry sounding. Husky. _Sexy._

He had a unique sound, employing some kind of a catch, or break in his voice sometimes at the end of a line. Louis didn't know musical terms. But whatever it was, it was raw and totally _Harry._ Maybe he did it on purpose, but Louis strongly suspected it was natural. His voice was on the heavy side, with a distinctive style, and a definite edge. It was as if he was having a love affair with the lyrics. Like they werechoking him up, nearly making him weep, and sometimes he got a little growly. Louis found himself totally immersed in it.

He wasn't sure what genre the song fell into, as it felt eerily like a little of everything, but he was certain Harry had written it, because Harry's essence was weaved into every word, every emotion. Would it be called soft rock? Louis wasn't altogether sure. He just knew what he liked, and he liked what Harry was doing immensely.

He knew Harry was singing in the shower just for him—because he'd asked to hear it. It was like a gift, and Louis experienced some kind of strong emotion he hadn't known he possessed. It was, frankly, a little bit unnerving.

After Harry was done singing the song, the water was turned off, and Louis swiftly and silently went back to sit on the couch.

When Harry came out, wearing a soft track suit, he sat down next to Louis just as he had before—his leg pressed to Louis.' Louis didn't know if he should mention Harry's vocals in the shower or not. He wanted Harry to know he appreciated it, but also didn't want to cause undue embarrassment.

Shit. He'd forgotten the dishes he'd been washing up. Louis strolled casually back into the kitchen to finish.

"Not done yet?" asked Harry, bouncing into the kitchen with him.

"Uh, no. I got . . . deflected."

"How?"

"Your voice is phenomenal," Louis blurted, because he wasn't going to lie and make something up. He peeked sideways slyly at Harry to see how he had received the comment.

Harry just stood there, his forest green eyes spearing Louis from the two feet separating them. How those eyes could hold his! Louis wanted to tear his gaze away, but he didn't. He was slowly getting used to it.

"Thank you," Harry said simply and modestly. Too modestly. But Louis realized he didn't want to appear like he had a big head. No wonder the other band members had been so capsized about losing Harry. Now he understood. With that voice, Harry probably made the whole band.

Louis bedded down on the couch after they'd watched a few shows, laughed, and generally enjoyed being together. Harry went to bed. That beautiful voice of Harry's echoed in Louis' head all night long, even in his dreams. He wanted to see Harry on a stage, see how he handled a crowd. He wondered if Harry sang ballads too, but he didn't wonder too hard. It was almost a certainty that he did, and Louis would bet his bottom dollar he enjoyed the hell out of it. Harry was a romantic. It was easily discernible after only knowing Harry a short while.

The next morning, Louis arose, ready to go grocery shopping, which promised to be a unique experience with Harry along. Not just buying a few things, but a few weeks' worth. He was surprised not to smell eggs, bacon or sausage. Not even pancakes. Maybe Harry was taking a morning off from fixing breakfast, and having a bowl of cereal. That was fine with Louis.

But instead, he found Harry in the kitchen, spreading something on pieces of toast and putting them on plates. Louis took one look, and wrinkled his nose. Well, he wasn't obvious about it, because that would have been rude. But he couldn't help curling his lip just the slightest bit.

"Sommat wrong?" asked Harry, all innocence, bright eyes expectant.

"Avocados," Louis said. "Avocados, of all things. They piss me off."

"Avocados . . . piss you off?" Harry echoed him, looking puzzled and worried. "Why?"

"They're trendy. Remember what I said about trendy the other day?"

"I'm not tryin' to be trendy. I like 'em, and I hoped you did too."

Harry looked so hurt that Louis wished he could take the words back.

"Not your fault. You didn't know. But when did you get those?"

"When we did that quick trip to the store, and you happened to be distracted by the Ovaltine."

"Oh. Well. I'm sorry."

"No worries. I just like the way they taste. I don't care about if they're trendy or not. I'll eat both pieces of toast. I'll eat the other avocados I sneaked in the cart too."

Louis glanced at the counter, seeing four avocados sitting there. He shrugged.

Louis grabbed a box of Cocoa Puffs from the top of the refrigerator. Now it was Harry's turn to crinkle up his nose.

"Cocoa Puffs are nothin' but sugar," he said, not in a gruff way, but conversationally.

"No health food lectures, please?"

Harry said no more. Yep, this shopping trip was going to be interesting alright.

As they cleaned up the breakfast dishes and gulped down the last of their coffee, Harry swept past Louis, and he caught the aroma of Harry's shampoo. Smelled like something halfway between coconut and vanilla. Delicious.

Louis' teeth clenched, and he felt he should put distance between himself and Harry. Gathering his plastic shopping bags in preparation to put them into the Rover, he made himself busy.

But it didn't help. His gut tightened. The front of his jeans did too. The smell of Harry's hair, along with the clean smell of his skin was as tempting as the devil himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Louis was positive his knees were going to collapse, and he'd end up on the living room floor, or, if he made it that far, on the pavement leading to the garage. Harry was a liability. He was bound to end up getting Louis hurt, and without even laying a hand on him. His quiet voice, the smell of his freshly washed hair and flesh was making Louis gnash his teeth again.

The younger man's sex appeal was starting to coat Louis from head to toe, suffocating him, and not giving him a moment's peace. Louis began to wonder if he would survive it. No one should have to live like this . . . trying to appear normal—not like electrical currents weren't traveling all over your body, pretending your mouth wasn't bone dry and you weren't aching, yes, aching to touch this handsome, clever, honest, sweet, voice-like-an-oversexed-angel who was walking beside you.

He still didn't even know if Harry was gay. Harry hadn't offered the information, and Louis sure as hell wasn't going to ask him. So it looked like Louis was going to have to endure the torture of Harry's nearness, the scent of him, and his perfection, until Harry decided to come clean. And if he was straight? Louis would have to learn to live with that, he supposed. It wouldn't kill him.

Or would it?

"Man, I'm pumped about grocery shoppin'!" Harry announced as they climbed into the Rover. Louis was shaking his head in incredulity again.

"How can you be pumped about grocery shoppin'?" he asked. "It's me least favorite thing to do besides laundry," he added.

"No! It's fun! Think of the Mallo bars, the ice cream, the Ding Dongs, the Twinkies!"

Louis' eyes brightened just a little bit. Boy, did he love the things Harry had just mentioned. But he also knew Harry was kidding. After all, he'd just been talking about eating healthy last night.

"Oh, not all the time, but a treat now and then won't kill us!" Harry added quickly.

"Wait a minute here, Harry. I've been makin' a bit of an effort to eat better lately, but that's beside the point. Let's get this straight. You aren't gonna dictate to me what I eat. You're me roommate, not me mother."

Harry flashed him a sheepish look. "I know. What I meant to say, is that's how I do it. I didn't mean to make it sound like I was gonna make you eat like I do."

"Well, you better not! I'll unleash me temper on you if you stuff me with asparagus, brussels sprouts and that horrible fiber cereal!"

Harry grinned, but said nothing more as they drove to the store.

It was a nightmare. A nightmare that didn't end for nearly two hours.

Harry began throwing things like soy products, quinoa, wheatgerm, alfalfa sprouts, tofu, greek yogurt, sesame seeds and tempeh into the cart right and left; just as fast as Louis was throwing donuts, cookies, ice cream, brownies, coffee cake, soft drinks and frozen burritos.

"I've liked your cookin' so far, so why do you have to change it now?" Louis was exasperated.

"I can add a little of this or that gradually, and you won't even notice. It'll still be just as good," Harry said, sounding reasonably convincing.

"Okay, look. I'll buy the cart with my food in it, and you buy yours," suggested Louis. Or rather, he more or less demanded it.

"I was gonna pay for all of it this time."

"Well, we agreed to take turns payin,' but I'm not payin' for all your organic, pro-biotic super foods or whatever, and I'm sure you don't wanna pay for all my junk shit food. So two carts, it is," Louis was not going to allow Harry to plea his case any longer.

_Control freak,_ Harry was thinking. But it was also a little bit cute. For some obscure reason he couldn't define, Harry was a little bit turned on by Louis' insistence on following his own little set of rules, and demanding that Harry follow them too. He would sure like to see if he could get Louis to give in a little to him. Give him a little control too. Give and take. Now, that could take a sensual turn.

Oh God, he couldn't be thinking like this! He was about as sure as he could be that Louis was straight, and Harry assuming anything else, or even _wishing_ for anything else was nonsensical and preposterous.

It sounded easy—the notion that they'd each fill a cart and pay for it. But it wasn't that simple. There were the items that made the rest of their meals to consider, like potatoes, bread; not to mention things like toothpaste, shower gel, toilet tissue, paper towels, napkins, etc. Things that needed to be split down the middle.

They tried to figure it out, but calculating half the cost of the miscellaneous items just grew too tedious, and they ended up just splitting the cost of the two carts. Five hundred fifty-six dollars later, they exited the store and went home to put it all away, collapsing afterward. They had argued mildly about where to put all Harry's health foods. Rather, it was mostly Louis complaining about having to find a designated place for them, whereas if it was only himself, he could have put things away in half the time.

They were both hungry, tired and grouchy by the time they'd wrapped it all up—and yes, Harry did occasionally get grouchy, but it took a lot to get him to that point. He explained this to Louis, to which Louis replied, "You wouldn't be human if you didn't get grouchy now and then. Glad to know you're human."

"Did you think I wasn't before?"

"Was beginnin' to wonder about it."

Silently, they fixed ramen noodles to go with their sandwiches. Harry had promised not to cook a health food meal tonight—not even for himself. They were both burned out on groceries, and, for Harry, the nebulous concept of counting calories, carbs, fat grams, protein and fiber was out of the question.

At least now Louis saw that Harry was not some perfect angel who agreed with everything he said. He didn't need that in his life. He needed a balance between the extremes—someone who fell right in the middle. The people he'd endured as a corporate worker were one extreme, and someone who was meek and agreeable all the time was the other. Someone who could hold his own, yet not try to be dictatorial was what he needed in his life. And it looked as if Harry just might make the grade. Especially as they got to know each other better.

"Gotta go to the gym tonight," Louis stated flatly.

Harry sighed. "Alright. I understand. But I'm goin' with you," Harry said with a solidarity to his tone. "I don't want you gettin' robbed."

Louis had forgotten all about that incident the other night. Actually, it had been about a week ago, he supposed. Ever since he'd met Harry it seemed that he had trouble with knowing what day it was. Was Harry _that _much of a fixture in his life now?

"Oh, so you're goin' only because of that? Not because you _want _to go with me?" Louis had no idea why he was being so pissy.

"Both," Harry's level green gaze was proof he was not going to cower or let Louis push him around.

Well . . . what could he say to that? Nothing really.

So they worked out together. Harry was clumsy; there was no getting around it. But as graceless and uncoordinated as he was, Harry had to be given major points for try. He was hell bent on learning, even as he tripped on the mats and nearly fell off the exercise bike. He listened to what Louis said and tried to work out as hard as Louis did. It squeezed Louis' heart a little.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Louis in a tank top—his defined muscles were spellbinding. And he couldn't wait to get into the shape Louis was in. Harry wasn't in bad shape actually, but next to Louis . . . well, he had a way to go. He needed to beef up not only his arms, but also his thighs and butt. He'd never have a fabulous butt like Louis,' but he could firm his up. His abs could be a little flatter too. And he'd like them to ripple like Louis' did when his tank top rode up when he was working on a machine.

Oh Lord. Harry wanted to press his hand on those abs, feel their firmness, squeeze them. But he was pretty sure Louis would at the least yell at him, and possibly even get physical. Physical in a _bad_ way, not a good one. Oh well. One could dream.

Louis warned him not to try to keep up with him, as his muscles were unaccustomed to it, and he'd get sore. Harry slowed down for a while, but kept "forgetting" to take it easy. So Louis ended up not working out for as long as he would have liked because he knew how sore Harry would be tomorrow.

And he was. At the breakfast table the next morning, Harry nibbled on his toast that was slathered with tofu, grimacing the entire time. From soreness—not the tofu. Louis had insisted that Harry not fix breakfast, and he himself had some shredded wheat merely because Harry looked so forlorn about Louis not getting a healthy breakfast.

"Lots of fiber," smiled Louis, trying to cheer Harry up as he choked a little on the rough, unforgiving cereal. "I tried to tell you, Harry. You can't just jump into workin' out like you did."

Harry popped a couple of Motrins and didn't talk nearly as much as he usually did. He got up and down from his chair as little as possible, and when he did move, he reminded Louis of a ninety year old man.

Still Harry wanted to go with Louis to walk the dogs. His determination always staggered Louis. This wasn't going to go well. But Louis couldn't talk him out of it.

Before Louis had gone a hundred yards, Harry was so far behind that there was no way he'd ever catch up. He walked with short, stiff steps, Louis looking back at him every chance he got. When he got to the dog park, he waited for Harry in front. There was no way Harry was going to be doing any running to get away from dogs today, and Louis concluded that it may be a good thing. It would force Harry to realize the dogs weren't going to attack him.

As he was waiting on Harry, who was almost an entire block behind, Louis heard a familiar shrill barking, causing a chill to go up his spine; realizing it was Brooke's Pomeranian. He'd seen her arriving at the dog park a few times lately, and he'd made a quick getaway, but this time he was trapped.

"You're always in such a hurry!" she whined. "I can never seem to catch up to you."

"Sorry. I'm a busy person, dog-walkin' and all," he explained lamely.

"Why'd you never call me?"

"Um . . . well, there's a lot goin' on in me life right now. And I have a roommate too." Louis was desperately grasping for excuses, and why he mentioned having a roommate, he had no idea. Maybe to impress on her that he just might be too busy for her, without coming right out and hurting her feelings.

"Oh, well, if you're ever free for that cup of coffee . . ." she trailed off, spotting Harry drawing nearer. She was openly staring.

"That's the guy I've seen you with a few times when you were walking dogs, although he was way behind you. Is that your roommate?"

"Uh, yeah, it is." Louis moved away from Brooke, and toward Harry.

Harry had seen the girl approach Louis, saw them talking, and noted that as he got closer, Louis had walked away from her. Was he trying to hide the fact that he knew her? Was she someone he dated? Or was she a friend with benefits? A hook-up, or something more? Harry's mind raced.

His gut also clenched. She was pretty. Was that jealousy he was feeling? Well, if it was, he had no right in the world. He had no claim on Louis. Louis was straight—now he knew it for sure.

"Uh, Harry? This is Brooke. Brooke, this is Harry, me new roommate," said Louis briskly. He couldn't do anything about the situation, and he had to be polite. The dogs were in the park and he couldn't leave them, so he couldn't just tell Brooke to have a nice day, and walk away with Harry. He had to stay here. Oh joy.

"Nice to meet you," said Harry politely, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Oh! You're British too!" Now Brooke literally had stars in her eyes.

She was no doubt awestruck. As awestruck as Louis had been when he'd first seen him. She seemed incapable of motion. She just stood there, mouth gaping open, her dog still yapping away. She seemed to have lost her power of speech, which was probably a good thing, because Louis feared she might ask Harry to go get some coffee, and that he'd take her up on it. Why did the thought bother him though? He didn't know, but he did know that for some reason, he didn't want Harry spending time with her.

Brooke began to look back and forth between them, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. It seemed she was analyzing their reactions toward each other; their expressions. Louis was about to ask her what was wrong when she said something that jolted both Harry and Louis right down to their feet.

"Hey, are you guys boyfriends?" she asked.

The extreme embarrassment was so thick, so engulfing and beyond anything Louis had ever had to face before. Excruciating. He and Harry both made a gargantuan effort to look casual, but their beet red faces couldn't be hidden.

"No! Of course not," Louis finally managed to say, making himself sound disgusted.

"Oh sorry. It's just . . . the way you look at each other . . . "

Was it _that _obvious? Louis had thought he'd kept it under wraps, putting extreme effort into not eating Harry up with his eyes. But then she'd mentioned Harry looking at him in the same way. Impossible. Harry couldn't be lusting after him. Brooke must have a wild imagination.

Louis looked at Harry helplessly, but Harry seemed to be trying to vanish into thin air. He wouldn't make eye contact, and had slumped as if he was attempting to make himself appear smaller. This was just miserable for all concerned except Brooke.

She was enjoying watching them squirm. They had goo-goo eyes for each other, and she now knew why Louis had never responded to her in the way guys usually did. They were gay!

So she decided she'd conduct a final test, just to be sure.

"Harry? Um . . . are you free, sometime, to maybe get a cup of coffee or something?" She knew she looked good. She always dressed nicely and spent extra time on her hair and make-up when she thought she might run into Louis in the dog park. So if Harry wasn't sweet on Louis, he'd have a positive reaction to her offer.

Harry was gobsmacked. If there was something between Louis and Brooke, why was she coming on to _him?_ Or was she wanting to date both of them? Just the thought made Harry blush anew.

"Oh, um . . . not really. I'm sorry. But thanks for askin.'" Harry didn't know what else to say. Louis stared at him, dumbfounded.

_Harry was turning Brooke down?_

If the guy was straight, this surely wouldn't be happening. Maybe Harry already had a girlfriend, although Louis didn't see how, considering Harry had been with him almost every minute since Harry had moved in, and as far as Louis knew, there had been no calls from girls. And now that Louis let his mind dwell on it for a few moments, Harry hadn't mentioned girls at all. Neither one had mentioned girls. That just wasn't normal for a couple of male roommates. Something was off here. Well, Louis knew he himself was gay, but if Harry wasn't, then he was acting very atypical for the average guy.

_Harry wasn't the average guy._ That was the obvious answer, right there. Harry wasn't average in any way. He couldn't be categorized. So Louis got a firm grip on himself concerning reality. Harry was his friend, and that was all. He shouldn't even be _thinking _of the possibility that Harry might be gay.

Brooke scooped up her yappy Pomeranian and continued to watch Harry and Louis as if they were there for her entertainment. She was slowly coming to the realization that Harry and Louis didn't even know they were yearning for each other. Or even if they knew, they weren't letting themselves act on it.

A dirty, rotten shame that these two attractive guys who shared an apartment weren't in synch. Girls knew how to communicate, but everyone knew men didn't. Brooke was quite the expert when it came to guys. She could tell after only talking to the two of them for a few minutes that they were both gay. They weren't even bi. And she'd bet just about anything that neither knew the other was gay. She hadn't known Louis was gay before, but all it had taken was seeing his face when Harry had approached them.

Why were guys so blind? She shook her head in bewilderment and wished them both a good day, walking away, defeated.

"Was she tryin' to, um . . . come on to both of us?" asked Harry reluctantly. He didn't know if he really wanted to hear the answer. He wasn't into girls at all, and if Louis wanted a threesome or something like that, Harry would have to bow out. Something like that just wouldn't work for him, even if he tried.

"I really don't know. Women fuck me up. I don't understand 'em," Louis mumbled. "Don't really want to, either."

Harry gasped softly. Louis had echoed his own thoughts. He was actually apathetic when it came to girls. Seemed Louis had a similar opinion of the fairer sex.

"Well, happy days. She's gone," announced Louis as he watched Brooke and her diminutive Pomeranian disappear down the street.

"So you don't really like women? That's kinda how you sound," Harry ventured, although he was nearly shaking with nerves from forcing himself to say the words.

"Don't have much use for 'em. Why bother?" answered Louis cryptically.

Now, Louis had clearly told Harry he was not asexual. So what could he mean, other than the obvious? Harry's heart hammered in his chest, wondering if Louis was telling him, in a roundabout way, that he was gay.

"I don't need a girlfriend like her, anyway," Louis continued. "She's shallow and just one-night-stand material."

Uh-oh. Harry had jumped the gun and just assumed, and wrongly so. Louis was not hinting that he was gay, but merely stating that he didn't want a shallow, one-off type of girl.

Alright, so he'd fucked that one up, and that's what he got for fancying that particular idea without having any proof as to the truth. Now Harry felt emphatically depressed, and the worst thing was, he'd done it to himself. Assuming, overthinking. Just the kind of thing he usually strove_ not_ to do.

"Yeah, one-night-stands are so . . . superficial," Harry tried to draw the conversation out, hoping Louis would respond and reveal more about himself.

"Yeah, that scene's behind me. Gotta get back to the dogs," Louis threw over his shoulder as he approached the dog park gate.

Harry was so lost in thought that he forgot to retreat. He was still worrying about Brooke's intentions. What if she really did have plans to try to get them together for a threesome? Interestingly, Harry couldn't stand the idea of sharing Louis. He was deathly afraid of losing him. And Brooke totally turned him off. It was Louis he was interested in. Only Louis.


	11. Chapter 11

Still deep in thought, Harry didn't notice Louis, now out of the dog park and walking the dogs toward him until the animals were only a few feet away.

He jumped back. Blackjack, the lumbering Lab, strained toward him at the end of the leash, tail wagging, mouth open as if he was smiling, and panting happily, pink tongue and all. Harry's heart jumped into his throat, and it was all he could do not to start running. Instead, he walked away as quickly as he could manage with his soreness, trying to ignore the agony from last night's work-out.

_Well, at least the dogs were taking his mind off Brooke and her question about them being gay,_ reflected Louis. It was nearing the limit of his capacity to even look at Harry after that experience. He hoped to God he never ran into Brooke again.

Keeping the dogs well behind Harry, who kept casting timid glances over his shoulder, Louis returned the dogs to their homes, with Harry always waiting on the far side of the owner's yard. But there was progress. Harry was getting much closer to the dogs than he had in the past. Louis had visions of Harry going with him, walking beside him, enjoying the day, talking and keeping him company. Maybe some day.

"You yelled at me about gettin' a battery for me Rover!" Harry complained, a resentful look on his face.  
"You're a hypocrite!" He was busy examining Louis' tires.

Louis whirled around, alarmed that Harry would have such an outburst.

"What?"

Then he saw Harry studying his tires. Oh well; no way around this. Bald tires spoke for themselves.

"Hey, just because I got on your ass about your battery, that's no bloody reason to call me a hypocrite!" Louis was on the defensive, because it was second nature to him. Besides, he didn't like to be called names.

"But you are!" Harry's bright green eyes were stormy. "If I'd only known you had bald tires, I could have defended meself. I wouldn't have felt like such a wanker."

"I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I was only worried about you."

Harry pouted slightly.

Looking to show Harry he was sorry without actually having to say it, Louis thought he'd make an offer, making it sound a little bit like a plea.

"Okay, how about this. Will you go with me in the mornin' to get some tires?" he asked, hoping to wipe that pitiful look off Harry's beautiful face. Harry had been created to smile, not brood. Louis considered it a complete waste when Harry didn't at least grin a little. A few crumbs provided by those dimples took the edge off his hunger, made his heart lighten. He was getting entirely too fond of him.

In the morning, they drove to the tire shop, Harry following Louis in the Rover. The place was very busy, and they were told it would be a few hours, so they took off in the Rover to see what might occupy them for a while. Going anywhere with Harry was an adventure. He could make the dreariest of errands seem like a rare kind of fun.

They approached an intersection and the light was red. There was a very attractive young guy waiting to cross the street. He was nicely dressed too. Louis carefully watched Harry out of his peripheral vision. Harry looked the guy over briefly, but then his eyes came right back to Louis' own eyes. Well, Louis kind of liked that. But then, it could be that Harry wasn't interested in guys in general. He hadn't asked Harry if _he_ was asexual. It wouldn't be appropriate to bring it up though, unless the conversation had already been on that subject. Plus, it might make Harry suspicious.

Harry began to go on about Louis' bedroom again—an almost daily occurrence.

"I don't feel right stayin' in your bedroom. Can't we at least divide it equally?"

What? Louis misunderstood at first. He thought Harry meant they should both be in there.

"You know, like, um, I can use it half the time, and you use it half the time?"

Oh. Louis wasn't sure why he felt the tiniest prick of disappointment. Why should he feel that way? Even if they put another bed in there, it would feel too intimate. It would look suspicious to others. Yeah, as if anyone ever visited, Louis thought, his inner dialog heavily laced with sarcasm.

"Since we're puttin' you on the lease, I think we should think about gettin' an apartment, in the same buildin' of course, with two bedrooms," Louis was thinking aloud.

"I'm thinkin' that's what we'll _have _to do. I don't know if your landlord will let two people stay in a one bedroom, would he?"

"Good point. You may be right."

"When are we gonna see your landlord?"

"Might as well do it tonight," Louis replied with a sigh. "Oh, and by the way. Me landlord isn't as nice as yours was."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's . . . " Louis tried to think of a way to describe the man.

"He's not very friendly. He's brusque, I guess you could say."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. So they dropped the subject for the moment. They went to the mall to window shop while they waited for Louis' tires to be installed. Harry pointed out things to Louis that he admired from the moment they entered the mall. He took an interest in things that Louis probably wouldn't have even noticed. Harry was certainly observant.

Harry found shelves of Furbies in one store, and was exclaiming about all the different colors, and explaining to Louis about how they talked and interacted with each other. Some had female voices and others had male voices. Louis found them slightly creepy, but he appeased Harry by smiling at their funny mechanical vocalizations. Before long, Harry had every one the Furbies talking and laughing and dancing in place, and the cashier was giving them the stink eye. Then some of the furry things began to complain about being sleepy, and some were actually snoring. Others were shouting, "Boring!" The noise was deafening, and Louis had the strongest urge to cover his ears with his hands.

Louis couldn't help but notice people of both sexes staring at Harry. Even with all the Furby noise, Harry was the main attraction. If smiles could light up a room, Harry's could light up the desert at night. His smiles were capable of stopping hearts. And he was passing them out freely. Louis suspected a few people must have had palpitations from the way they seemed unable to catch their breaths. Harry, as usual, was oblivious to the minor uproar he was causing. More people crowded into the shop where they were, initially attracted by all the noise, but when they didn't leave, Louis discovered that many of them were lingering so they could ogle Harry.

"Come on, let's go to the chocolate shop," he proposed. He literally had to drag Harry out of the shop, actually feeling rather proud that Harry, the one everyone seemed to want to gawk at, was with him.

Harry was all for the chocolate. Diet be damned today—they got a full pound of the stuff to take home, each nibbling on a chunk as they made their way through the rest of the mall.

"Dark chocolate is the healthiest," claimed Harry.

"Hell, it's _chocolate._ Don't ruin this moment. Just enjoy it."

They took the lift to the second floor, and shortly after that, went back down . . . and up again. Harry had held on to certain elements of his inner child that he didn't seem particularly ready to let go of, and Louis was still very young at heart himself, so he didn't mind all the trips up and down. Making Harry happy was a joy in and of itself. And when Harry saw Louis smiling at his antics, he got all the happier.

They picked up the Mustang some hours later, laden with shopping bags of clothes, books, odd and ends, and of course, the chocolate, which Harry guarded diligently, keeping it tucked under his arm. He would gladly dole it out to Louis, but he didn't want it stolen. It made Louis smile yet again because it was never the expense of an item Harry held so dear—in this case it was the sensual delight it brought him when he tasted it on his tongue, rolled it around in his mouth, chewed it and swallowed. Louis tried not to watch, but he could tell that with Harry, the forbidden treat was almost erotically delicious, and the satisfied little sounds he made reminded Louis of things he shouldn't be thinking about.

It was Saturday, and Louis wasn't walking dogs today, so they had the afternoon to while away.

"I'll fix lasagna for dinner tonight," announced Harry.

"Healthy lasagna, or regular lasagna?" Louis asked suspiciously.

"I'll just add a little soy meat along with the ground beef, low fat cheese and whole grain lasagna noodles, along with a great salad. You'll like it, I promise."

And he did. Louis couldn't taste any difference between Harry's healthy lasagna, and the type he was used to eating. He was duly impressed. When the dishes were done, they went to see Louis' landlord.

Mr. Dawson, an ex-marine who was always clean shaven, had a buzz cut, and a no-nonsense attitude, invited Louis and Harry inside. As they sat on Mr. Dawson's couch, Louis explained the situation, being extra careful to cut right to the chase, and not waste this man's time, because Mr. Dawson was forever impatient and intolerant as far as listening to some drawn out story that he apparently didn't have time for. Louis claimed he wanted a roommate to cut his costs. The landlord didn't have to know that Louis simply _wanted_ Harry as a roommate, and didn't have to resort to it for financial reasons. But he figured it was best to present it that way.

Mr. Dawson looked at them both in turns, kind of like Brooke had done, but you couldn't read a thing on his face. He did look like he disapproved, but then, Louis had never seen him look any other way. The expression seemed to be etched in his face permanently. The man had no sense of humor, and really not much personality either. He was disciplined and by the book. There was no warmth to him. But he was a good landlord, and had responded quickly and efficiently to any problem Louis had had with the apartment, and he never stalled when it came to having things fixed.

But Louis was filled with cold dread. He really did want to stay in this apartment building. He didn't want to go elsewhere. Who knows what kind of landlord he could end up with?

Louis also briefly wondered if Mr. Dawson could somehow see that he, Louis, was gay, even though Louis acted mostly like any other guy. Louis had known a few guys who had acted as if they must be gay, but had been straight as arrows, so his guilty imagination must be running wild. Mr. Dawson wouldn't be able to discern if he was straight or gay any more than anyone else could. Louis' practical side kept telling him that, but Mr. Dawson's manner had him disturbed.

Looking at Harry through Mr. Dawson's eyes, Louis could see how the older man might get the impression that Harry was wild, what with the long hair. He might be afraid Harry was a partier. But Harry was being himself—smiling almost non-stop and being incredibly polite. Hopefully winning the older man over like he did with almost everyone.

There was a lot of silence going on as Mr. Dawson pondered the situation. He leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers behind his neck, as if contemplating whether or not he should grant their wish.

"You'd want a two bedroom, I assume," he said rather stiffly.

Louis felt like belting out, "Of course we want a two bedroom! Why would we want to stay in a one bedroom?" But he controlled himself admirably.

"Yes, that's right."

"Well," Mr. Dawson fiddled with his pen that he had poised over Louis' rental agreement in a neat file that included all his rental agreements, Louis assumed. "I'll have to make out a new one of these," he grumbled as if it was the biggest imposition in the world. Again, he examined both the younger men's faces as if he was going to drag a confession out of them if it killed him.

Louis suddenly realized that his fear that Mr. Dawson might think they were gay was not entirely unfounded. The man seemed to have x-ray eyes, and he looked to be wondering if he should allow Louis to continue to rent in his building; Harry in turn was feeling like the man was judging him, picking him apart. Just as Louis was convinced Mr. Dawson was going to say something about not renting to gays or long-hairs, the man spoke up.

"Well . . . I guess we can do that. I do have a two bedroom coming up for rent in two weeks. The tenants will be moving out," Mr. Dawson looked like he was wondering if he'd made a grave mistake. But Louis was a good tenant, and those weren't found in abundance anymore. Louis decided It was likely Harry's long hair was putting him on edge and making him hesitant. After all, he was a scrupulous ex-Marine, and naturally suspicious.

"That would be fine with us," Louis shot Harry a quick glance to be sure he was agreeable with that. Harry was nodding in his enthusiastic way.

Turned out the rent would only be going up one hundred per month. That meant only fifty dollars additional for each of them. They would hardly notice the difference, and they'd each have a bedroom, and more space too.

After having Harry fill out the paperwork that was required, Mr. Dawson suggested they take a look at the unit.

He called the current tenants and asked if he could show the apartment. They were fine with it, so Harry and Louis got to view their new future home. A bigger kitchen, same size living room, and two roomy bedrooms and the fact that it had two bathrooms had been unexpected, but very welcome. Sharing a bathroom had not been very convenient, even though Harry was careful to stay out of Louis' way as much as possible.

"Now I can take two hour long bubble baths!" Harry joked. Mr. Dawson didn't see the humor in that at all, and he cast a stern look Louis' way.

"Harry, cool it," said Louis in a low enough voice that the others couldn't hear.

They signed the rental agreement afterward, back at Mr. Dawson's apartment. Louis signed first.

"Tomlinson," said Harry thoughtfully. "Funny, I hadn't even known your last name!" Louis ignored him, as Mr. Dawson must think they were out of their minds. Sharing an apartment and not even knowing each other's last names for God's sake! Louis smiled though, when Harry signed his surname. Styles. It couldn't fit Harry more perfectly. A_ stylish_ name for a _stylish _man.

Upon leaving, Mr. Dawson admonished them as they crossed the threshold of his apartment to the outdoors. "And no loud parties!"

"No need to worry about that. Won't happen," Louis assured him. So . . . looked like he was right. The landlord was afraid Harry would be a troublemaker just because of the way he looked.

When they arrived back at Louis' apartment, Harry was a little shook. "That guy kinda creeped me out," he admitted to Louis.

"Ah, don't flip about it. He's strict, regimented, and still a Marine at heart. I don't think he tries to appear intimidating. It's just who he is," he explained.

"No wife?" asked Harry.

"No. But think about it . . .what woman would put up with him?"

"That's not nice."

"What you said wasn't nice either," Louis reminded him.

"I just said he creeped me out, yeah?"

"Okay, so you didn't actively put him down, but when someone creeps you out, it's not exactly a compliment."

"Okay, touche."

Just then Louis' phone rang. It was Shortcake's owner. Shortcake was the fox terrier that Louis had had to inform the owners about the dog being too aggressive, and would have to be walked separately, at an increased fee, or Louis couldn't walk him any longer.

The man was much more mild this time; almost apologetic, explaining that he didn't want anyone else walking Shortcake, as no one could handle him as confidently as Louis, and his wife was ready to kill him for firing Louis.

"I'll pay fifty for you to walk him alone," the man finished, his wife throwing out snarky remarks to her husband about how he never should have turned Louis loose in the first place. The man was pretty obviously being hounded by her. He seemed more unnerved every time she made a castigating remark. She had upbraided her husband so many times by the time they got off the phone that Louis almost pitied him.

Well, this meant an extra hour of work, but Louis' schedule was light anyway, so he had accepted.

"I bloody need more chocolate," Louis lamented the moment he was off the phone, inching toward the door as if to leave.

"What? We bought a pound of it!" Harry countered.

"Hot chocolate. It's still a bit nippy, yeah?"

"Well, it does sound good, now that you mention it. With marshmallows."

"Marshmallows, right. Okay, to the store we go." Louis patted his pocket. Oh, me wallet isn't in these pants."

"Where is it? I'll go get it," Harry offered.

"Thanks. It's in the bedroom, in me jeans that're thrown over the chair."

Harry rushed into the bedroom, spied Louis' jeans and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. As he turned to take it out to the living room, a piece of paper came with it, fluttering to the floor. Harry automatically picked it up, but then, seeing writing on it, couldn't resist looking at it as he unfolded it.

It was a bank deposit slip. On the back, the name "Brooke" was written, along with a phone number.

Oh boy. So Louis had gotten Brooke's phone number! So he really _did _like Brooke, even though he'd essentially told Harry she wasn't his type.

Harry felt a pang of hurt that laid heavy in his chest. This wasn't a good way to start out a friendship/roommate relationship. Louis was already lying to him.

But why should it matter to him if Louis was interested in Brooke? He would much rather Louis not lie, but it was none of his business if Louis wanted to date Brooke—or whatever it was he wanted to do with her.

Now, that thought left more than a pang. This one stabbed with a fierceness that left Harry flustered and bewildered.

So . . . it looked like there was no longer any doubt. It sure looked to him like Louis was straight.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry was sure making exceptions lately. He was amenable to all the chocolate they'd bought at the mall today, and now he had no complaints about going out for hot chocolate just because Louis had a craving. Or maybe it was the fact that Louis looked out of sorts because he felt sorry for Shortcake's owner, and that was why Harry took pity on him. Neither one really had any idea.

Harry studied the menu at the charming, quaint little shop that sold hot chocolate exclusively. He was really committing himself to making the right choice. Louis saw it in his concentration. Just one of many ridiculously cute habits of his.

"Cinnamon sounds good, but then so does mint," Harry murmured, half to himself and half to Louis. Judging by the wrinkles in his forehead, Louis would have sworn Harry was making a stock market choice, or deciding on the odds of a horse winning a race. It was adorable.

"Then get both. Actually, I kind of like the sound of raspberry," was Louis' input.

"Me too. Oh hey, look! You can buy a variety pack of powder!" Harry was really excited now. The variety pack consisted of a dozen flavors, with two packs of each flavor. It was obviously meant for lovers, as there were hearts all over the package. Harry conveniently ignored this feature.

"Ah, just perfect," Louis semi-mocked the choice Harry had made. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em was becoming a frequent state of mind for him lately. Harry acted as if he had just won some coveted prize instead of merely anticipating buying multi-flavored hot chocolate mix.

The cashier looked at each young man alternately, and Louis could almost_ feel_ what she was thinking. As Harry peered about the shop, his gaze settled on two black mugs with matching hearts of all sizes on them, and Louis knew he had to draw a line. He grabbed his arm and jerked him back from whatever musings he was entertaining.

"Ready to go now?" Louis asked, putting on a bit of an exaggerated masculine air. He didn't fool the cashier, as she was smiling dreamily at them.

Harry tried to pay, but Louis all but slapped his hand away. "Next time," he said, with it being the only way he could get Harry to relent.

Back at home, Harry bounced into the kitchen to make them each a cup.

"What flavor do you want?" he shouted to Louis, who was on the couch.

"Surprise me."

"Okay. But I'll give us both the same flavor so we can experience it together."

Louis shook his head, fighting off a smile. So he and Harry would critique hot chocolate flavors together he supposed. And actually, it didn't sound too bad to him either. He felt rather foolish about it, yet he knew it would be a fun experience, and that was simply because Harry was involved.

Harry came in and set the steaming mugs down on the coffee table.

"This is the caramel," he said, sipping his and relishing the liquid as he swished it around in his mouth. "I think you're a bad influence," he said, dimples teasing Louis mercilessly. He then hummed as he enjoyed the flavor. Louis tried not to watch, because it seemed every time Harry ate or drank something he really liked, he unwittingly turned it into a sensual experience.

"As far as chocolate, you mean?" asked Louis skeptically.

Harry nodded.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Harry asked as he switched on the telly.

"Sure." Louis figured he could sit through a movie for Harry.

Harry started channel surfing. "You don't have many movie channels. Oh, but here's one that's just startin.' Let's see. It's called Brokeback Mountain. Ever seen it? I haven't."

_What?_

Louis couldn't exhale after he'd gasped. The air was stuck in his fully inflated lungs. This was unreal, wasn't it? He began to cough and sputter. Luckily he hadn't taken a mouthful of his hot cocoa yet. Was Harry familiar with the movie? Did he know what it was about? Apparently not, because he'd said he hadn't seen it, then casually put his feet up on the coffee table and sat back, prepared to enjoy it. Not even a hint of nervousness touched his face.

"Is it okay if we watch this one?" Harry asked in his polite, easy-going way, looking at Louis with mild curiosity.

"Uh, what else is on?" Louis was panicking now.

"I don't know. But this looks good," Harry was gazing at the great outdoors on the screen, already settling in with a blanket over his knees, and Louis was screwed. _Really screwed._ How in the fuck was he going to watch this movie with Harry? He'd never seen it himself, but, of course, he'd heard about it, and he was surprised Harry evidently hadn't. Or maybe Harry was _pretending _he didn't know about it? Was he feigning innocence? Nah, if Harry had any idea what it was about, he would have avoided it like the plague and flipped to another channel.

Well now, they were both in for some massive embarrassment. Louis couldn't figure out a way to change the channel without making a scene, and then, the ever-curious Harry would insist on watching it anyway to see why Louis was so intent on avoiding it. He was starting to figure out how Harry operated. The guy's curiosity had a way of ruling him.

Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em went through Louis's head again. What else could he do? He sat down cautiously, feeling squeamish, although squeamish wasn't a strong enough word. He was agitated and flustered, and this feeling only got worse when Harry inched over so they were sitting closely, Harry's leg pressed against Louis' as it always did when they sat on the couch. Harry flipped some of the blanket onto Louis' legs.

Trying to bite the bullet and make the best of a very unsettling, no, _terrifying_ experience, Louis worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth, wondering how he was going to ride this out. He wondered what Harry's reaction would be the moment he realized what the movie was about.

In spite of himself, Louis quickly became engrossed in the movie. It was actually very good, but it didn't take long before the storyline was revealed.

A rodeo cowboy and a ranch hand were hired by a rancher as sheepherders. They developed a friendship, and one night after they had been drinking, one of them came on to the other one. At first, the recipient refused, but not much time passed before, one day, the affection was returned.

The look on Harry's face was of horror. Louis watched on surreptitiously as Harry looked over at the dining area, then at the ceiling, then at his boots. Anywhere but at the telly screen. And when he finally _did_ look back at the screen, the men were kissing passionately. Although it would be funny in some other situation, in this one it was painful for both parties. Beyond painful. More like excruciating.

Yet, concurrently, the movie was affecting Louis strongly. And not in a good way. Not a good way, considering he was sitting right next to Harry. He felt tingly, desire pooled in his abdomen, and he felt the swelling begin. He was becoming aroused very quickly. He thought he saw Harry try to adjust himself discreetly, but couldn't be sure.

They didn't look at each other. But neither one made a move to change the channel either. The silence in the room was capsizing both of them. They continued to watch the movie, but both were embarrassed beyond repair.

The men in the movie both ended up marrying women, but continued their affair for over twenty years' time. It was extremely emotional. In the end, they broke up, one not wanting to "come out" and the other wanting a future together. A few months later, the one man received a phone call that his former lover had died in an accident. All those wasted years when they could have been together, instead of enduring just infrequent stolen moments. And now, there was no going back.

Feeling as if their hearts had been speared and then yanked out of their chests, Louis and Harry were both teary eyed. Louis tried to hide it, whereas, Harry did not. He was much more in touch with his feelings.

After the credits began to roll, Louis turned the telly off, and if Louis was walking on a tight wire, the tension could not have been any more palpable.

_What could he say? How should he act?_

Harry fixed that dilemma by saying, "Sorry. I didn't know what it was gonna be about."

Louis remained silent, feeling that was the safest tactic, as he was afraid he'd say something that might come out the wrong way. Anything he said would sound clumsy and awkward. He got tongue-tied in circumstances like this. He had hardly ever been in this kind of situation. In fact, never, that he could recall. Nothing even close. It was intense, and all he wanted to do was go to bed, close the door behind him, and pretend it had never happened. But that would be rude . . .

He was also suddenly wondering why neither of them ever sat in the recliner. They always ended up on the couch, with Harry making physical contact. This was making him terribly uncomfortable.

"Well, like I said, sorry about the movie," Harry said again weakly.

"It doesn't matter. No big deal." Louis tried to sound cavalier, but he ended up coming off as unemotional and cold. Harry knew Louis was hiding his true reaction, but he didn't let on. He was getting to know Louis a lot better than Louis realized.

"What did you think of the caramel cocoa?" Harry asked. Louis was confounded to see that he'd barely drunk half of his mug. He couldn't even remember how it tasted. He downed the last of it, the cocoa barely being room temperature.

"It's pretty good," he said, still avoiding Harry's eyes.

"I thought so too." Harry was chewing on an errant marshmallow that had fallen out of his mug, onto the coffee table.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about _what?"_ Now Louis was feeling defensive. Harry wanted to talk about the movie? He hoped to God he did not.

"Why you're actin' so weird."

Harry was messing with Louis, and although it made him feel guilty, he felt it was the only way he'd find out how Louis truly felt.

"I'm not actin' weird. You're the weird one," Louis shot back.

"How am I weird?"

"Oh, want a list? You play with those . . . Furby things in the mall, you wear a blazer to Starbuck's, you would happily go up and down lifts all day long . . . "

"You're bein' hurtful." Harry's eyes had gotten big and moist.

"I don't mean to be hurtful. But you're not exactly . . . _normal."_

Louis didn't mention that he loved that Harry wasn't normal. Harry was himself, and not ashamed of it. Louis actually envied him for it. But no way was he going to admit it.

'I'm true to meself," Harry said simply.

Louis sighed and stood up, flinging his part of the blanket away from his legs. "Have to agree that you are," he said, lifting their mugs from the table and taking them into the kitchen. "Why do you think I let you stay here?" Louis felt a guilt trip coming on again. Harry seemed to trigger them in him.

Harry moved on with another subject.

"I'm gonna make some calls tomorrow. Gonna call some guys I know that're in bands. The ones I'd like most to join," Harry kept up his end of the conversation, which Louis appreciated right now. He was still shaky and freaked out by the movie. "Gonna go talk to a few of 'em."

"Oh yeah? Will you be goin' in the mornin'?"

"Yeah, was thinkin' about it."

Louis had agreed to walk a couple of dogs tomorrow, which was Sunday; something he normally didn't do, but the owner had just gotten out of the hospital and really needed his dogs walked daily until he was strong enough to resume it himself. He lived alone, and had no one nearby who could do it. Louis didn't mind bending the rules now and then. He was surprised at himself though. He felt disappointment that Harry wouldn't be trailing him.

He was growing dependent on him! That simply could not happen. No way, no how. Louis Tomlinson was dependent on no one! He had to shake himself out of this. Sure, Harry was a great roommate and they really clicked, but Louis had to maintain his self-sufficiency at all costs.

The next day, Louis refused the payment the man tried to give him when he brought the dogs home. They were rambunctious, but didn't really give him any trouble.

"Next time I'll charge you, but this time is free," he said when the man protested. He planned on charging the man half price. He sure hoped there were relatives or friends who would be visiting. He wasn't sure how much the man could do for himself. He was getting around pretty well; just not well enough to walk his high energy dogs. His gratefulness made Louis feel good.

When Louis walked in the door back at home, Harry was on the phone, just hanging up.

"I've got three bands that I'm gonna meet up with in the next few days. I know the guys, but it's gonna be a hard decision. They're all good musicians, and all have above average singers too, but I'm a little leery about pickin' the wrong band, and then bein' sorry about it later."

Louis could totally understand that. How did one pick a band anyhow? How would you know how you'd get on with them, and if they'd allow you to make your own song choices and genre, at least some of the time? He supposed that was why Harry was meeting personally with them. It must be an intricate process.

"How long do you talk to them?" asked Louis. "I mean, what kind of questions do you ask, and all that stuff?"

"It's not easy. I want a band with personalities that won't clash with mine, and will give me a say on things. Not like the last band."

"I sure wouldn't want to make a decision. What if two or three bands all seem perfect? Then what do you do?"

"I would go with the one who has the most similar tastes in music to mine, and of course, havin' their respect is really important. It's all about give and take. If I can negotiate with someone and reach a happy medium, it would allow me to have some freedom, as well as the other band members."

"Doesn't sound like too much to ask," Louis murmured, giving thought to how he would handle it. He was glad he didn't have to. Four or five people making music together sounded like a recipe for dissension no matter how you looked at it. He had trouble imagining band members getting on the majority of the time, and history had proved that most bands did have issues with one or more members trying to dictate how things would be done. Louis had to admire Harry for leaving a toxic band, and hoped he would find a decent one this time. But people could be hard to read . . .he worried about Harry being taken advantage of or being taken for granted again.

"Just make sure you get references," he advised.

"I already know the guys, but thanks. I plan on doin' that anyway. I don't ever wanna go through that again."

"I wanted to tell you about the man whose dogs I walked today."

Louis told Harry the story.

"Well then, I'll just make some extra dinner, and take a plate over to him! He may not be able to make his own dinner," Harry was dead serious.

"We can't do stuff like that, Harry. We have a business goin' here. If word gets 'round, everyone who gets a cold will want dinner brought over to them."

'Bull hockey," Harry waved the thought away with a hand. "I was gonna make spaghetti and meatballs tonight. I'll just run him over a plate when it's done. It's a special circumstance."

"How long are you gonna do that?" Louis couldn't believe the generosity of this guy.

"Until he can walk his own dogs again. That way we'll know he can take care of himself. Wouldn't you want someone to do that for you if you'd just gotten outta the hospital?" When he put it that way, Louis couldn't argue.

"We'll run it over in the car."

"Thanks!" Here Harry was thanking him when it was his customer, not Harry's. And Harry didn't even know him!

"And about the car. Your Mustang needs to be in the garage. I'll use the carport."

"No, you can't leave the Rover where it can be seen. Those dirtbag ex-bandmates of yours might see it. You never know. Besides, when we get the two bedroom, we'll have a two-car garage."

"Great!" Another problem solved. Harry was happy. He'd felt great responsibility for Louis' classic car, and felt like he was denying the car protection from the weather, flying dust, bird poop or all the things that beauty of a machine shouldn't have to endure.

They delivered Mr. Hammond's spaghetti, meatballs and garlic bread a little later. The man was taken aback and stunned. Looking through the door, at what little they could see, the carpet in his house was threadbare and his furniture was very old. It looked as old as he was. He walked in a hunched over position, but invited the boys in with a nearly toothless grin.

"Thanks for invitin' us in, but we have to go home and eat our own dinner," said Harry with confidence and impressive assertiveness—for Harry, that was. Then Louis saw that Harry had spotted Mr. Hammond's dogs. He grew tremulous within seconds.

"Well, alright. I sure do appreciate this." They could tell the old man was very embarrassed, yet thrilled.

Right then the dogs approached the door, and Harry stepped back in a hurry, warily handing off the plate to Louis. Louis, in turn, gave it to Mr. Hammond.

"Oh, they're friendly. They won't bite you," Mr. Hammond assured him, but Harry was, just the same, backing up all the way to the sidewalk.

"He had a bad experience as a youngster with a dog bite," Louis explained quietly. Mr. Hammond nodded his understanding.

"I'll enjoy it. Thank you." He let Louis go to join Harry, and closed the door.

"Well, that's the closest I've seen you to a dog yet," said Louis brightly as they piled into the Mustang to go home to dinner.

"Yeah, it was_ too_ close!"

Louis knew patience was a virtue, and would pay off in the end, so he said nothing as he drove them home.

After dinner, Louis patted his belly. "As full as I am, we have to work on your self-defense, and then tomorrow night it'll be the gym again."

"It's funny, you know? You're so good about exercise, and I'm better at healthy eatin.' I would lounge around all the time if I could, and you'd eat chocolate all the time. We're good for each other."

"I guess we compliment each other," Louis agreed, although reluctantly, since he didn't trust his feelings toward Harry. But what Harry had said was true. They seemed to keep each other in line. All things in moderation—at least most of the time.

"First thing I'm gonna do after we move into the new apartment is take a bubble bath . . . and you can sit on the edge of the tub and we can talk!" Harry's intentions were nothing but innocent, but Louis couldn't help picturing it in his head, and he knew he'd never be able to pull it off without giving himself away.


	13. Chapter 13

As the weeks went by, Harry took giant strides and became much more sure of himself as far as defensive moves went. More of it was becoming automatic, and this inspired Louis to teach Harry as much as he could about defending himself in many different situations. Harry remained an excellent student, eager to learn the tactics Louis demonstrated inside and out.

Harry could now block someone from attacking him from the front and sides, and now they were working on him being approached him from the rear. Louis was also showing Harry exactly what to do if a person reacted differently than Harry was expecting. It was imperative that Harry be ready for just about anything, and have many options at his disposal.

Harry was also developing some impressive muscling from his time at the gym, which would help him be even more accomplished with the self-defense. Strength layered on technique would give him an extra cushion of safety.

They had bought Harry a suit early on, and the day Harry caught Louis by surprise with an unanticipated, clever punch, knocking Louis to the ground, was groundbreaking. Of course, Harry was immediately concerned, and apologized furiously, many times over. Louis was not hurt, but instead, proud. He was pretty sure that if Harry didn't get scared and freeze, he could easily keep his head above water if challenged.

Moving day came, and as soon as they were done walking dogs, they got started. It only took a few hours. Louis only had his couch, recliner, end tables, coffee table, bed, dining room table and chairs, dresser, and desk. They planned to get Harry a bed and dresser within a few days.

They moved the furniture over themselves, since much of it wouldn't fit in the Rover. The apartment was conveniently only one row away from Louis' current apartment, and they were in great physical shape, so it was no huge undertaking for them. It was, in fact, bonus exercise that they welcomed.

They parked the Rover in the new garage, packed with their clothes, dishes and other small items. By the end of the day, almost everything had been put away, and the furniture was where they wanted it. As usual, they had agreed on where to put things. They had similar preferences, and this made everything go smoother. With Louis' Mustang snuggled in safely beside Harry's Rover in the garage, Harry wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore.

That night, he watched Louis remove his shirt on the way to one of the bathrooms to take a shower. He wished Louis would stop, turn around, and pose for him. California agreed with Louis, who always had a fabulous tan. Watching his rounded butt and heavily muscled thighs as his roommate walked away, Harry stared reverently.

Harry had a little sexual experience, but not much. Watching Louis' bare torso and impressive body though, made him want to learn more. If only Louis was gay . . . The movie they'd watched though, had convinced Harry all the more that it wasn't the case. Louis had clamped his jaws shut and not said a word about it. If he was gay, it would have been the perfect opportunity to bring the subject up. By the same token though, Harry himself could have brought it up. What stopped him was the fear of Louis acting disgusted. Interestingly though, Louis had shown no distaste during the movie. Only embarrassment.

Within a couple of weeks, Harry was walking directly behind Louis when he walked the dogs. Louis knew that it wouldn't be much longer until Harry would be walking beside him. He just hoped nothing happened to discourage Harry, because he saw that Harry still tensed up when one of the dogs barked for any reason.

They had crossed paths with Mr. Hammond, the older man who had used Louis' services after getting out of the hospital—quite a few times, walking his dogs. He had been so grateful for the dinners they had taken to him for a week, every night. Now he looked to be the picture of health, and always smiled widely upon seeing them.

"Can we play football soon?" Harry asked one day as they walked the two older dogs, Horace and Matilda. Harry had lost his fear of these particular dogs. They were arthritic, slow, and about as harmless as dogs come; and Harry was almost—but not quite—walking beside Louis.

"Sure! How about the weekend?" Louis was pleased that Harry had remembered that he liked to play football, which was called soccer in the US. Between the gym and the other activities they engaged in, they were both very fit. At this point in time, Louis reckoned Harry could handle some football without getting overly winded or sore.

So they played football on Saturday, and by the time they got home, both were pretty well worn out. But it was a good tired.

Harry had disappeared into his bathroom some time ago, and Louis was beginning to get concerned. Harry was never in the bathroom for that long. So he knocked on the door.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

"Yeah! Come on in! Door's not locked."

"Ah . . . that's okay. Just wanted to be sure you're okay."

"Lou! Come on in! It's not like I'm doin' anythin' embarrassin' or sommat."

Louis, against his better judgment, cautiously turned the doorknob and peeked inside. And there was Harry—soaking in a tub full of bubbles. So he hadn't been kidding about a two hour bubble bath!

Louis gasped and turned to walk out. "What's wrong? It's not like you can see anythin,'" said Harry. It was true. The bubbles were so thick that they were all that was visible.

Louis, a little miffed that he had no excuse to leave, warily sat down on the toilet seat.

"Let's talk," said Harry, dark curls floating amongst the bubbles, and playing hide and seek with Louis' reluctantly eager eyes.

"About what?"

"Anythin,' doesn't matter."

Louis didn't know how he'd start off a conversation knowing Harry was butt naked under all those bubbles. The thought distracted him completely, and he couldn't think of anything else.

Harry bent his leg to scrub the bottom of his foot. Louis looked away, deathly afraid he'd catch sight of something he didn't want to see.

_Or did he?_ He didn't even know. All he knew was he had to get out of here. _Before_ he got an erection, which was bound to happen at any moment.

Why was he so panicky? So frightened? Harry acted totally natural in this setting, yet Louis didn't know what to say, what to do, or where to look.

"What's wrong Lou? You look pale and uncomfortable."

Well, how could he answer that?

Harry was bewildered and frankly, a little worried about Louis. He actually heard him swallow. And that was kind of hot. Wait now . . . he couldn't be getting aroused _now,_ of all times. If he did, his dick would probably pop right up out of the water. And if that wouldn't be embarrassing . . . Maybe Louis was just uptight about being in the bathroom with a naked dude. Some people are more open than others. And Harry was pretty open about his body, sometimes forgetting that others often weren't.

Now Harry felt as if he had forced Louis in here when Louis didn't feel right about it. He shouldn't have done it. He hadn't been thinking.

"I'm sorry. You can go out. I didn't realize . . . you don't . . . aren't comfortable . . . " Harry couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

Pale-faced Louis practically bolted from the bathroom. "Okay, see ya when you when you're done!" he said with rather obvious relief lacing his voice as the door closed behind him.

When Harry was done, he came out smelling so tempting that Louis now understood why Harry had made that comment about how he himself smelled fresh out of the shower.

"Um, Louis. I'm, um, sorry about that . . . the bathroom, yeah?" Harry began.

"Enough! Are you quite finished? There's nothin' to discuss!" Louis growled irritably.

Harry was picking up on something that he wasn't quite sure about. Louis was having quite a strong reaction—so strong that Harry wondered what was behind it. He was hurt that Louis was being so short with him, but realized it wasn't _him_ that Louis was annoyed about. It had been the _situation,_ or something to do with it.

So he put on a happy face—something he was very good at, and acted as if it hadn't happened at all.

"Movie?" Harry suggested. When Louis startled slightly, Harry amended his statement quickly.

"And I'll make sure I read what it's about before I turn it on!" Harry was attempting a little humor and being light-hearted about it, and Louis did appreciate that. It took some of the tension out of remembering the last movie they'd watched.

"Sleepless in Seattle?" Harry offered as he checked the movie log on the telly.

"Isn't that a chick flick?"

"Yeah, I think it is. But I don't mind 'em . . ."

"Well, I _do. _Let's watch sommat like an action movie or an adventure of some kind."

"There's nothin' like that on," Harry said after checking for a couple of minutes. "You sure don't have many movie channels."

"You've already mentioned that too many times. It's because I rarely watched them before."

"So you only watch 'em because I do?" asked Harry.

"Well, yeah, kinda." Louis wasn't going to lie—he hadn't been a regular movie watcher. But having Harry here made it not such a lonely experience. But he wasn't going to say it out loud.

"Rain Man?" Harry was suddenly exuberant, although he was trying to keep it reined in.

"I've seen it before. It's one of me favorite movies," Louis said.

"Same here. Would you mind watchin' it again?"

"No, not at all. I've probably already seen it four times, but it's one of those movies you can keep watchin' and not ever get tired of."

"Then it's settled! It starts in ten minutes. I'll microwave some popcorn," and Harry was up off the couch and running for the kitchen. What was he, ten years old? Still, Louis ended up in the kitchen with him, standing in front of the microwave and listening to the cadence of the pops.

When almost a second elapsed between pops, Louis moved to stop the microwave.

"Not yet!" Harry cried, stepping in front of Louis to block him. "I'm an expert at this. I'll take it out when it's ready, if that's alright with you."

Louis sighed; by now he was resigned to Harry's unorthodox way of doing things. But admittedly, he was precise. Harry was listening intently to the pops, and fifteen seconds later, he exclaimed, "Now!" and took the bag out of the microwave. Sure enough, the popcorn was perfect. Not a single piece was burned, and very few were un-popped. Louis wasn't surprised though. When Harry was adamant when he said he was good at something, he wasn't making it up. And apparently microwave popcorn was one of those talents.

Ignoring the recliner, Louis headed to the couch with a couple of beers while Harry brought up the rear with the popcorn in a giant bowl. "Wish we had some Junior Mints. The whole movie experience, yeah?" he quipped.

"You're so cheeky, and so _American!" _teased Louis.

"Okay, then. Wine Gums or Hob Nobs."

"That's more like it. But we don't have those either because you can't buy 'em here, so I guess it's just popcorn. Wait . . . we have Haribos!" Louis went to a cupboard and pulled out a bag of Haribos, and Harry's face lit up.

Harry plopped down beside him, and they raised their beers to each other, took a slug and then dug into the popcorn and Haribos. The moment Harry's leg snuggled up to his, Louis felt warm, inside and out. By now it had become a natural reaction. It was an affectionate gesture and was, whether he liked it or not, a habit. And Louis found that he didn't mind it. In fact, it was getting to the point to where he looked forward to it.

"How come you don't have a big telly screen?" asked Harry.

"Wasn't into telly enough to spend the money."

"I kinda like it this way anyway. Seems cozier, like in the old days when everyone had small screens like this."

A couple of times during the movie, Louis could have sworn Harry moved a fraction of an inch closer to him.

At the end of the movie, when Tom Cruise had to say goodbye to Dustin Hoffman as he got on the bus, Louis always misted up a little bit, and when he looked over at Harry, big tears were running freely and unchecked down his cheeks, dripping into his curls. Louis had the most gigantic urge to reach over and wipe them away with his fingers. That way he'd be able to feel Harry's hair—something he'd been wanting to do for a long time-for as long as he and Harry had been living together or longer. He had to will himself not to do it.

Wow. How could a person get so turned on just thinking about touching someone's hair? Not only that, but feelings of affection also flowed through him. Louis was convinced he seriously needed help. There was something just not right about that. He'd been turned on by guys before, of course, but never close to this level. Everything about the Cheshire charmer seemed to turn him into a raving, hungry beast.

The popcorn was long gone and so were the beers. The Haribos bag lay on the coffee table half empty and forgotten. Louis went to the kitchen to get two more beers. To his shock, Harry started getting giggly after only a beer and a half. At first, it didn't seem remotely possible to Louis, who had never known someone to get buzzed on that amount of alcohol stretched out over two hours of time. But the two of them had never had more than one beer apiece in a single sitting since Harry had moved in. They had always been busy with something or other, and hadn't had the occasion to drink more than one each.

Harry started to tell really lame knock-knock jokes, and when he finally got Louis to giggle a little bit—not at the joke, but at how cute Harry was, Harry began to do some extra snuggling up.

Harry had no idea why Louis had giggled. He thought he'd appreciated his humor. With a blanket over their legs, it wasn't hard for Harry to pull it up to his check and snuggle with it, and then extend it in Louis' direction by surreptitiously edging the blanket closer and closer to Louis until it touched him, then pressed lightly against his shoulder. When Harry snuggled the blanket, he had to make contact with Louis as well.

_Clever._

Harry's hair brushed against Louis' face when Harry bent slightly over for a belly laugh at yet another joke that wasn't funny, and Louis sniffed his hair without letting himself be detected. It had to be his shampoo, but Louis had tried that shampoo himself, without the same results. The aroma just seemed to go well with Harry's chemistry. And it made Louis hard every time he got a noseful of it. But only if it was on Harry's hair. Sniffing it from the bottle had no effect. That was a mystery that Louis wished he could solve. Maybe he could talk Harry into using another kind of shampoo? Then maybe, just maybe he wouldn't be so sorely tempted to . . . to what? Bury his nose in Harry's curls, gather them in his hands, let them run through his fingers? Yes! Under the influence of a beer and a half, Louis could finally admit at least that much to himself. But having indulged in six or more beers in a sitting he knew he wasn't really feeling the alcohol, but was actually getting tipsy on _Harry._ He really wished Harry didn't have such an influence on him. It would sure uncomplicate things, and take the knots out of his insides.

Another thing was Harry's hands. They held Louis enthralled with how graceful they were, despite the clumsy person they were a part of, particularly taking into account how big they were; the fingers so long. Long and sensual. Not fat or ugly, or with big knuckles. And he was so gentle. On the occasions—and there had been only two of them, when Harry had rubbed Louis' shoulders briefly when Louis had been tired or sore for whatever reason, it had left a brand on Louis. That was how it felt. The area Harry had touched had remained warm, almost hot, for a long time after. His touch had been firm yet tender, after a fashion. It was as if Harry could burn him if he wanted to, but kept it to a pleasant warmth instead. Louis was so receptive to it that, after the second time with the same response, he didn't allow Harry to rub his shoulders again. He told Harry it made him itchy, but the truth was, it made Louis so hot and aroused that he needed to relieve himself in his room alone, at night. He pushed away the memory of the feel of Harry's burning touch, but he knew it wouldn't last. He felt like he was held captive.

Harry's face was pink, his cheeks most distinctly. His eyes turned up to look at Louis' face as he rested his head on the blanket, which was softly mashed up against Louis' shoulder. Louis tried to think up an escape plan. This was getting too cozy. He inched sideways, away from Harry and the blanket.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, sounding like a still purring, yet disappointed _kitten_.

"Nothin,' nothin,' Louis claimed, knowing all the while that there was_ plenty_ wrong. What Harry was doing was wrong, and what he was_ feeling_ was wrong. But Harry continued to flirt, feigning innocence. He was doing a damn good job of it. Such a good job that he almost had Louis convinced. But not quite.

Louis wanted to believe that it was the beer that had loosened Harry up and caused him to do things he wouldn't normally do. But he knew that wasn't accurate. The fact was that Harry had been pressing his leg against Louis' on the couch for weeks, and Louis hadn't done a damn thing to stop him. So Louis was not without blame. And here they were again, with Harry pushing the matter further. It was Louis' fault. If he had only put a stop to it the first time it happened, it would never have escalated to this.

"One of the flavors of the hot cocoa is licorice," Harry stated, jarring Louis out of his reverie.

"Are you kiddin?'" he asked.

"Nope. Sounds kinda interestin' to me," Harry declared.

"Sounds like I'd like it about as much as I do baked beans," Louis cringed a little.

"You never know until you try it," Harry tossed this sentiment at Louis as he went into the kitchen. Great. They'd had beer, popcorn and Haribos, and now Harry was going to fix hot cocoa too? And licorice flavored at that? Yuck. Louis tried not to contemplate what the contents of his stomach would look like from the combination, but he didn't say a word.

Harry was back entirely too soon with two mugs of cocoa. He handed Louis one of the mugs, and waited for Louis to taste it.

"Haz, you taste it first. I'm not gonna be your guinea pig."

Harry obligingly took a healthy swig. He rolled it around on his tongue, as was his custom, and raised his eyebrows. This was followed by a grin and a smack of his lips. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "Couldn't help it. It's really good." Why had that seemed sexual to Louis? He was surely losing his mind.

Louis doubted it was as good as Harry claimed. But since Harry was anxiously awaiting his opinion, he warily took a tiny sip. It really _was _good, and Louis was stunned.

"Not bad," he said, being careful not to appear too enthusiastic.

They savored the rest of it, then Harry picked up his second beer and finished it in one long swallow.

"Wow, the beer tastes weird after the cocoa," he said, wrinkling his brow and his nose simultaneously. Louis had already finished his beer, so thank goodness he didn't have to find out.

Harry was sliding over close to Louis again, and this had to stop. _Right now._

"Um, think I'll go to bed and read a bit before I sleep," Louis muttered as he got up abruptly from the couch. Harry pulled a face, and Louis, disgruntled by now, didn't want to hang around to watch him pout.

Louis boldly spoke up.

"You're too touchy-feely as it is, but alcohol seems to intensify that trait in you. In any case, I'm goin' to bed. I'm outta here. Good night." Then Louis did just that, leaving Harry solitary and lonely on the couch.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day they went to buy Harry a bed and his own dresser and night stand. Standing there, watching Harry try out beds, Louis was more amused than embarrassed. The salesmen seemed to get a kick out of him when he bounced and tried out a variety of positions.

After what seemed like a very long time, Harry decided on a queen size pillow-top bed. They made arrangements for it to be delivered, then went a few stores over and Harry found a dresser and nightstand that he liked. Louis approved of his choices, because, of course, they always seemed to have the same tastes.

"Happy times!" chortled Louis as they walked out of the store after arranging to have the other pieces delivered as well. "I'm glad that's over with." He had been afraid Harry would be super picky and would keep changing his mind, being fickle about the purchases.

"That bed is wicked, isn't it?" asked Harry, seeking Louis' blessing.

"I reckon I rather like it meself," admitted Louis. "It's proper sick lookin' and comfortable too."

Yes, Louis had tried the bed out. He'd waited until Harry wasn't on it, of course. With his luck, Harry would be liable to cuddle up in front of the salesmen, no less.

Next they went and got Harry a nice thick sherpa comforter. It would also serve as a bedspread, since it was very attractive by itself. It was a rich cocoa brown, and it made you want to bury your hands into its plush furry softness. It would certainly keep Harry warm.

As they made their way back to the Rover, a turquoise camaro drove through the parking lot, and Louis felt his blood heat up. He knew that car. It was Joe's, the guy from Harry's ex-band.

"Hey, there's that asshole Joe," Louis said to Harry. Joe stepped on the gas, and soon all they could see was Joe's middle finger sticking up near the roof of the car as he burned rubber out of the parking lot. Harry and Louis both laughed. The guy had been too much of a pussy to even stop and harass them.

"Real mature, that one," Louis said drily.

Although Joe didn't seem to pose much of a threat, Louis still worried about Harry when he was out alone. And he still kept an eye on people around them at all times. Careful not to be obvious, he stayed aware, and encouraged Harry to do the same. Fortunately, Harry took it seriously and acceded to Louis' request.

Harry still hadn't decided on a band. To make things awkward, Joe and the other two had been sniffing around two of the bands they thought Harry was likely to join. And the members of those bands didn't hesitate to tell Harry. Harry apologized for their behavior, and hoped it wouldn't hamper his chances of joining. But the other musicians were so eager to get Harry in their bands that the troublemakers didn't seem to have much of an impact.

Harry had heard his old band, Clockwork, was looking for another lead singer, and so far, had not been successful. They were bitter. He heard these things through the grapevine when he interviewed band prospects. And interviewing was really the only way to distinguish what Harry was doing, because all of the bands wanted him. They'd heard him sing, seen him perform, and it was just a matter of Harry deciding which band he wanted to join.

Harry would always go home and run everything by Louis after interviewing a band, telling of their merits, any downfalls, and what personalities the band members possessed. They discussed the musical talents of each band, the positives and negatives of joining said band; discounting some for various reasons, and keeping others cataloged for further consideration. Harry needed to make a decision soon; not so much for financial reasons, because he still had plenty of money, but because he was missing music so much. It was an essential part of him. No matter how often he listened to it, it could never take the place of actually singing and performing himself. He missed the stage, the excitement, the audience's reactions—all of it.

Many times, he sang to Louis at night. Along to the radio, or by himself. Louis, as always, was entranced. When Harry's voice got husky and earthy, Louis found himself wriggling his butt just a little bit, attempting to get more comfortable. But that wasn't all of it. He couldn't get comfortable for a reason—it was because Harry's essence made him horny; well, really much more than simply horny. It was much deeper than that, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Whatever it was, it felt smooth, silky, and lush. It infused warmth within him. But horny and those other things combined didn't seem to go together. At least, they never had before in Louis' world. It was new, and it was fascinating.

Things were changing, and quickly. Louis was developing a real affection for Harry. It ran deeper than Louis wanted to admit. He could never discuss it with Harry though, because he felt like a freak. And he was afraid Harry would feel the same way. Harry would be nice about it, of course, and understanding, but just the same, he'd think Louis was slightly unhinged. Louis was sure of it.

One night, as Harry sang. he caught Louis with his eyes closed and a gentle smile, as if he was having a wonderful dream. When Harry finished the song, it took Louis a moment to wake up to reality again, although he hadn't been sleeping. He had just been lost in Harry's voice. His eyes looked faraway and dreamy as Harry gazed at him.

"What's up?" asked Harry gently.

"Your voice . . . it gives me all the feels," confessed Louis, tired of denying it.

Harry was thoughtful for a few seconds. "Well, that's what it's supposed to do," he explained smoothly, not making Louis feel foolish at all. "If I hit something emotional in you with me singing, that is actually me goal. You want your audience to connect with you on a musical level. I'm so happy it's happened with us."

_Oh, you don't know the half of it,_ thought Louis. But he couldn't help being pleased. He didn't have to tell Harry about the horny part. Thank God that wasn't required, and Harry seemed satisfied with his admission. Louis didn't think he suspected anything about the horny part. In fact, Harry looked a little like he was floating on air himself. His art, which was his singing, was so integral to him, so important. And he wanted to make people feel good, take them to another time and place, or merely allow them to use the enjoyment of his voice in any way they liked. That was his job, and he took tremendous pride in it.

"I'm glad you're into it," he said, honesty lighting up his face.

"I wish you could sing everything you know to me," said Louis in a rare moment of putting words to his reverency. He was in awe of Harry's talent, and also his insight, which he supposed naturally went along with singing with passion. You had to _feel_ the words, embrace the emotion. It had to be a powerful thing to be able to put people into a particular state of mind with merely your voice.

Louis didn't know if other people felt as he did, but Harry made him feel humble, whereas he'd seldom felt that way before. He'd always had the bravado going on, and the singing seemed to strip that away, until he was almost raw. It had frightened him at first, but after he saw that nothing bad happened when he let himself go to enjoy Harry's singing, he realized he could lose the tight hold he had on himself and truly _enjoy_ for once. And it was all thanks to Harry. But as far as articulating it to Harry—he didn't think he was capable. At least, not yet.

"You're slayin' it," he said, wanting to pay Harry a compliment, this being the most comfortable way for him to do it.

Harry beamed. He absolutely beamed with pleasure. "You think so?"

"It's kinda like . . . well," Louis wasn't sure how much he could say without sounding like an idiot.

"You can tell me. By now you know you can trust me with your feelins,'" Harry murmured, and Louis knew he was right.

"Yeah . . . you're the first person I've trusted in ages, except for me family, of course. Okay, I'll tell you if you promise you won't laugh."

"Never. What you have to say is important to me," Harry said sincerely.

"Okay, well . . . the experience of hearing you sing—especially certain songs—is almost, kinda, well, _spiritual_ to me."

Harry looked to be in disbelief. He almost thought Louis was kidding at first, but when Louis' eyes didn't leave his, he realized Louis was as earnest as he could be. He knew the older man by now. He knew all the little nuances in his speech, his body language, and it was clear that Louis was one hundred percent sincere.

Harry was delighted, and he moved forward impulsively, to hug Louis. That was one of his favorite ways to show appreciation with a close friend. And he hadn't had a close friend in a while, so he craved a good, massive hug. And there was no one he'd rather get it from than Louis.

Louis hesitated, even though he knew Harry would never do anything inappropriate. Still, he was embarrassed; felt unsettled and awkward. Even so, he moved forward also, and they met halfway.

They did the "man hug" at first, but Harry, instead of patting Louis' back as Louis was doing to him, began to do more of a rub on Louis' back. A tender rub. More like a stroke than anything, while his other hand rested on Louis' waist. And he held Louis super close, turning his head into Louis' hair, but not _too_ much. Not enough to seem out of line. He knew Louis had boundaries and he appreciated them.

The gentle strokes of Harry's hand on his back made Louis want to melt into him, but he maintained his dignity. He wanted to stroke Harry's back as well, but governed himself sternly.

When the hug was broken—mainly by Louis; he was left not knowing what to do.

"It wasn't purely spiritual though," Louis said immediately when they parted.

"Yeah?" Harry waited for Louis to continue.

"There's another . . . element there besides the warm fuzzies and the serenity. I feel I should tell you—not hold it back."

"Certainly," Harry's smile and positive manner gave Louis some incentive to keep talking. But at the same time, he was torn. Wording it was the most difficult part. It couldn't sound undiplomatic—not with a person like Harry. He tried desperately in his head to think of a synonym for horny, but he also knew he needed to call a spade a spade and not beat around the bush.

"It makes me feel . . . desirous." Louis almost shocked himself with his word choice.

_Desirous? Really? _

This rendered Harry speechless—not surprising. It took him a good minute to utter anything at all.

"Desirous? Um . . . like, _lustful _or sommat?"

"Well, yeah . . . I guess so. Aroused also fits the bill."

Now Harry had turned pale. He shifted on the couch slightly so he was able to face Louis.

Oh boy. Louis didn't need Harry gawking at him at an awkward moment as this. He lowered his gaze, feeling ashamed of his bluntness. Well, at least he hadn't said _horny!_

"Aroused, as in_ sexually_ aroused?" Harry's face looked grave, resolute.

Oh God. Fuck. What had he just entangled himself into?

"Yeah, but . . . in a _good_ way, not a bad one," was all Louis could come up with. He was flying by the seat of his pants, and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

Harry looked confused, as well he should. Louis wasn't being plainspoken. He was circumventing to a degree because he didn't want to just come right out with the baldness of his desire for Harry.

"What are you sayin'?"

"I'm dodgin' is more like it," Louis said mournfully. "You see, I know you're sensitive, Harry, and I don't want to offend you."

Harry studied Louis' eyes, his lips; and Louis realized he was trying to get at the truth without forcing Louis to say words that might sound objectionable. He was concerned for Louis' anxiety.

"Aroused," said Harry quietly, as if he was talking to himself.

"You heard right," Louis nodded, trying to coax Harry to absorb how sweeping, how profound this was.

Harry cleared his throat, and Louis knew something intense was coming.

"The _music _arouses you directly . . . or sommat else does?"

Okay, so running away from this wasn't going to happen. Here was the question Louis could no longer get around—no longer deny. Was he going to lie, or half-ass answer Harry? Both felt wrong. This was the moment of truth, and Louis wasn't ready for it. He made a decision.

"Okay, Harry. Right now . . . let's put this on hold, can we? And talk about it later?"

This attempt to delay the inevitable might or might not be effective, but Louis had to try. If Harry didn't feel the same way about him, he'd look like a complete clown. He was _so_ afraid of rejection.

"Why'd you bring it up then?"

"I . . . I don't know. I reckon it was a mistake on me part."

"Well, now I won't be able to sleep for tryin' to figure out what it means."

"I'm sorry. I'll explain some other time. But right now . . . just isn't the time."

"And one has to find the right words too, yeah?"

Louis smiled. Harry really_ did_ get it. He understood that Louis had spoken too soon, and needed to get his shit together so he wouldn't blurt out something that might be interpreted incorrectly. Although, how could, "You turn me on" be misinterpreted? Louis had to admit he was too much of a coward to come right out with it. But, knowing Harry as he did, he knew the curly-haired beauty wouldn't let this go. He had a memory like an elephant.

"I'm not tryin' to get you to tell me anythin,' but . . . just one more thing I'm curious about," Harry hesitated, and Louis nodded, signaling him to continue. He hoped Harry wouldn't push too hard.

"Could it be Brooke you're . . . wantin'? Desirin?'"

"Brooke . . . Brooke? You mean the bird from the dog park? Hell no! I told you she's not me type."

"I have to make a confession," Harry looked down at the floor uneasily.

Oh no! Had Harry done something with Brooke? Not that it should bother Louis—it was just that it made him feel a teeny bit jealous.

"That day you asked me to get your wallet outta your pants? Well, a piece of paper with her name and number fell out when I took your wallet out. It's been buggin' me. That's why I asked you if you're wantin' her."

Louis sighed in relief and then laughed, relieved in more ways than one.

"I wondered how it ended up on the floor of me bedroom. She gave it to me weeks ago, and I forgot to throw it out."

"Oh . . . " Harry's features relaxed, the tension seeming to drain out of him. Why was he acting so weird? It couldn't possibly be that Harry was actually _happy_ that Louis didn't want Brooke, could it? No, that was too far-fetched. And too good to be true.

They didn't say any more about the incident, although Louis had the impression that Harry was wanting to say something, yet holding it back. Better to wait until they were both in the frame of mind to discuss whatever it was that was lurking in the background, he supposed.

Between walking dogs, going to the gym and working on self-defense, Harry and Louis stayed busy. They continued to get on well, rarely arguing or disagreeing.

The day Harry decided to go with a band called Uneven Emotion was a day for celebration. Harry had sought Louis' help on every level of this decision, and Louis felt honored. The remaining three members had lost their lead singer due to ongoing health problems. They did pop, pop rock, and dabbled in other types of music, but were pretty much dedicated to the first two genres. They all seemed to be candid, steadfast, sincere guys. Harry had known them from a distance for years, yet had never been close friends with any of them, and he liked what he saw. The drummer, bass player and guitar player were all accomplished, and Harry believed they would gain recognition some day on a wider scale than they currently were.

They played locally and semi-locally, and never had a lack of gigs. The places they played at weren't dives either. They were thrilled to find that, after all the looking he'd been doing, Harry wanted to join their band. They'd gotten the word that Harry had left Clockwork through other bands. Word got around quickly in the industry. They needed a strong lead singer, and they all agreed that Harry more than fit the bill for their front man.

Louis couldn't have been more proud, and was looking forward to meeting the other band members within a few days. The guys were flexible, and assured Harry he would have equal say in every song they performed. They, in fact, needed a front man who would also be a leader of sorts. A confident person who could make solid decisions. Harry was nervous, but also champing at the bit to prove himself as a gifted musician who would be able to guide the band and be on equal footing—something he hadn't had before.

So that night Louis and Harry celebrated. They had made a list of positives and negatives regarding each band Harry had interviewed. And in the end this band towered above all the others. While no band is perfect, let alone anything else in this world, Harry felt assured that joining Uneven Emotion would be a wise decision, and one that he would enjoy very much. That was the main purpose of being in a band besides to make money—being happy and fulfilled while making good music, and doing the thing he wanted most to do in life.

_Sing._

Louis had bought champagne, but made it clear that he was not going to have more than three glasses himself, and that Harry could have however much he wanted, but if Harry had too much, he would kick his ass. They had a good laugh over it, but Louis hoped Harry would take the limit into consideration, even though it had been said light-heartedly, in a joking fashion.

"Three glass limit," Harry echoed him. "But won't three glasses be too much for me?"

"Maybe . . . but you won't get passed-out drunk if that's what you're askin.'"

_Just sweet, affectionate and clingy,_ thought Louis slyly to himself. The tingles were shooting through his body, warmth surrounding him like a blanket. And this was only from the thought of having some champagne with Harry.

He wasn't going to take advantage of Harry in any way, but he doubted he'd repeat the mistake of shying away from another of those fabulous hugs that Harry seemed to want to dish out to him. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation of the evening, and Harry asked him what he was thinking.

"Oh, nothin' massive, just lookin' forward to relaxin' with a bottle of champagne and . . . you."


	15. Chapter 15

As they sipped champagne, they talked, and they talked, and then they talked some more. Everything from how life was at home when they were kids, to pets they'd had, to favorite subjects in school, favorite hang-outs, books, and on and on. Harry was not hesitant to tell Louis about his childhood. He didn't seem to be marred—or not much anyway—at the early loss of his parents. This was baffling to Louis. Harry was rock solid stable, and Louis figured it would take a lot to ruffle him. Harry was sensitive, but he had to be inherently sound and clearheaded to survive what he'd been through, if still a little naïve and innocent. How he retained that purity, Louis had no idea.

They skirted around the subject of dating when younger, as the last time the subject had come up, it had been a dead-end.

"I'm lit about us livin' together," Harry said in his usual frank way.

Louis liked his frankness. "I like chillin' with you. It was always so quiet before when I lived alone. Comin' home to an empty apartment was brutal. But I never trusted anyone enough, or even _wanted_ anyone to live with me, period."

Harry smiled, his dimples beckoning. "If ever . . . if ever you, kinda, um, decide you wanna be alone again, you just tell me, and I can move out," he said shyly.

"I will, I promise. But after all these weeks, and no problems to speak of except little tiffs here and there, I'm glad you're me roommate," Louis assured him. "Hey, when are you gonna work with the new band?"

"We're gonna practice at the rehearsal hall they rent this weekend," Harry clarified.

"When do I get to meet 'em?" asked Louis.

"How about after we're done with practice, you come pick me up, and I'll introduce you?"

"Sounds good." Of course, that meant he had to drop off Harry as well, but that was okay.

"Oh, tomorrow night, would you mind us cookin' sommat for Mr. Hammond so we can take it by and eat dinner with him?" Mr. Hammond was the older man who had undergone surgery and had needed his dogs walked until he recovered.

Harry's green eyes lit up the entire room so much that it almost hurt Louis' eyes. "Yeah! Let's do that! We did say we'd keep in touch, and I think he'd like that."

"First though . . . " Louis started out gingerly. "You have to remember he has those two dogs, and he might not have 'em locked up. You're gettin' more and more comfortable, and physically closer, to the dogs I walk. I was thinkin' we could prepare you for Mr. Hammond's dogs by givin' you one of me customer's dogs to walk."

Harry gulped out loud, then clapped his hand over his mouth, eliciting a loud slapping sound. Louis didn't seem to notice though. He was still stuck on Harry walking a dog. To him it was the most far-fetched thing he could think of, but he had to at least give it a go.

Louis hurried on while Harry was still in shock and incapable of protesting. "I was thinkin' Tiffany. Tiffany the Sheltie. She's gotta be the easiest dog to walk on the planet. She just does what you do. Stays right beside you. Never pulls on the leash, and never even growls at the other dogs."

"Oh no . . . no, I can't. I can't do that!" Harry was already working himself into a near-frenzy. Louis had never seen anything like it.

"Or Trinket, if you prefer," he went on, a desperation creeping in. "She's the tiny Shih Tzu that loves everyone, and although not quite as smooth on the leash as Tiffany, she makes friends wherever she goes."

Harry took a big swallow of the champagne, puckering his lips and wrinkling up his nose a bit, narrowing his eyes from the tart bubbles.

"No way can I ever walk a dog, Lou!" he whined. "It's a big deal that I get anywhere close to you when _you_ walk 'em. And what if they decide they don't like me? They could turn their head and bite me so quick that even you couldn't stop 'em. Oh no, you won't catch me touchin' a dog or even its leash." He shuddered—actually _shuddered_, and even though Louis had seen his fear of dogs before, this display illustrated just how acute it really was.

"Okay, you don't have to. I promised you I'd never push you, and I'll keep me word." Louis looked crestfallen, even though he made every effort not to show it.

"Their teeth . . ." Harry seemed to be talking to himself. "They're so long—a few inches long, yeah?" he asked Louis.

"Depends on the dog. Usually no longer than two inches though."

"Two inches is proper long enough!"

Harry was now on his second glass, and he quivered, which Louis could easily see with the naked eye.

Louis tried to formulate something to say to take Harry's mind off the dogs. They couldn't continue on this way, with Harry in this most frazzled state.

"How many cocoa flavors have we had now?" he asked, knowing it had been at least half a dozen.

"Seven," Harry responded, looking relieved that the subject had changed. "Caramel, licorice, raspberry, cheesecake, mint, blueberry and peanut butter cup." He rattled them off fluently in quick succession. Louis was, as so often happened, astonished by his memory. But it seemed to apply only to things he really_ wanted_ to remember. And maintenance on his Rover didn't seem to be one of them.

"What do we have left to try?"

"I know, but I don't care right now!" Another random, yet rare outburst from Harry.

"What's the matter?"

Harry drained his second glass of champagne, sporting a complex, lost look on his face.

"You'd better take it easy on the champagne," warned Louis. "So what's goin' on?"

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Is it the dogs?"

Harry sighed loudly. "Yeah! Yeah, it's the dogs. Why am I such a wimp? Why can't I get past me bad experience? I mean, that little one can't weigh more than five pounds."

Louis could have given him a whole speech about facing your fears, but he didn't really want to do it while Harry was drinking champagne. This was supposed to be a celebration about his joining a band and Louis didn't want to ruin the fun for Harry.

"Let's talk about it later," he suggested.

"You said that about sommat else too," Harry reminded him, casting him a knowing glance.

Louis' blood instantly ran cold.

_Oh God. He knew Harry wouldn't forget about it._

"I know, but we won't talk about either one of 'em tonight. Truce?" Louis was not ready to tell Harry how he felt about him. He was_ so_ not ready. And that was _so_ not happening tonight.

"How long's it been since you last went out with a woman?" This came from Harry's mouth without warning, as so many things did, and was totally unexpected by Louis.

"Harry! I didn't think we were gonna talk about . . . sensitive subjects."

"We agreed not to talk about dogs or the way me singin' makes you feel. We didn't say anythin' about talkin' about datin.'''

Good Lord, but Harry didn't realize that talking about women was a huge sore spot for Louis. He was so weary of people trying to set him up, as they'd done regularly when he'd had the corporate job. It was simple—he didn't care for women. But he just couldn't say it to Harry. Poor Harry. He was stumbling around in the dark.

What to do now? If you can't beat em . . .

"It's been a long time ago."

"Why?"

"Because I just haven't wanted to."

"You don't wanna date? What do you do about . . . desires, since you're not asexual?" Harry was truly curious, and inquisitive about Louis in general. Louis knew that, but lying to Harry, his first-ever roommate, and best friend in a long time, made him recoil in disgust. He couldn't do it.

"We've talked about this before!" he protested.

"I know. But I still don't understand."

"Harry, I don't understand you, and your lack of dating either, but I don't ask you about it."

"How do you know I don't date?" Harry shot back.

Louis sighed in a long-suffering manner. "Because, for one thing, you and I have been together all the time since you moved in, you've never gone out at night, or even during the day alone except to go to the store, and for another thing, your phone . . . it never rings, so how can girls be callin' you?"

"Yours doesn't either," Harry said in a slightly accusing way.

"We're not discussin' me, we're discussin' you right now."

"But I started out discussin' you, and you turned it 'round on me."

Louis sighed again. This wasn't going well at all. Harry had quite a stubborn streak.

"I never _said_ I had girls callin' me. I don't give out me number to 'em."

"Well, I don't either," Harry sounded disappointed that, once again, he hadn't gotten more out of Louis.

"Feel good?" asked Louis after several moments of silence.

"Yeah, I do. I feel tranquil and all peaceful-like."

"That's just what we want. A tranquil Harry, but not a drunk Harry. And for sure not an angry Harry."

Louis was steadfastly waiting for Harry to get loose and, with any luck, affectionate again. But he could tell something was holding Harry back. He didn't have his puppy dog eyes on, and although he was admittedly relaxed, he didn't point any of his cuddlesome ways in Louis' direction.

"Like your new bed, dresser and nightstand?" asked Louis, determined to get Harry to talk more.

Harry nodded eagerly. "I love 'em all. Especially the bed. Firm yet soft with that pillow top. But it's lonely too."

That last comment caught Louis off guard. He had to force himself not to gasp. "Oh?" he asked warily.

"Yeah, I need to find a teddy bear I really like so I can hold it at night."

Oh man. Just the thought of Harry in bed, lonely, and snuggling with a teddy bear was almost too much to bear. How he, himself would love to be that teddy bear!

But he knew he had to play it cool.

"Don't worry, we'll find you one," he promised.

"Tomorrow?" asked Harry, his eyes hopeful.

Louis ran his hand through his hair and let his head tip back and thump onto the back of the couch. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

By the time Harry's third glass of champagne was half gone, so was Harry. Louis discreetly removed it and emptied it into the kitchen sink. He'd polished off his three glasses, and was far from snockered, but was feeling good. He was glad he'd taken Harry's glass away, because if he'd had any more, he would have crossed over the line to drunk. As it was, Harry was _just right._ Inhibitions lowered, talking even slower than normal, and as Louis sat back down next to him, the younger man got so close physically that, from the shoulders right on down, they were crammed together. Or maybe wedged was a better word. Harry even wrapped his lower leg around Louis.' And Louis didn't even try to pull his leg away.

Louis, in his slightly euphoric state, could no longer hold back from touching Harry's hair. The itch to do it had been present for too long. The impulse was overwhelming, and Louis finally gave in to it.

Touching a curl tentatively, he gauged Harry's reaction. There wasn't much of one. Pretty soon, two faltering fingers began to grasp; now his whole palm was involved, and he clutched a handful of it, actually caressing it now—letting it drape around his hand.

Harry, bless his heart, was powerless and incapacitated. He sat stock still, not daring to make a single move, praying that Louis wouldn't stop.

Finding Harry's hair just as soft as he'd hoped, and in fact, maybe even a little softer, Louis was hooked. He sat there, shamelessly fondling Harry's hair as he looked at Harry's frozen profile. Then . . . he snapped out of it. What the fuck was he doing?

Jerking his hand back, Louis tried to think of a way to explain away what he'd just done. He was actually shaking. That was how much touching Harry had affected him. He cleared his throat, making a pitiful attempt at appearing casual.

"It's soft. I've been curious, and now I know," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. As if he let his fingers sink into other guys' hair every day.

Harry was struggling to remark on what Louis had just said, but he only croaked when he attempted to speak. Finally, after coughing to try to cover up the croak, Harry said, "You . . . you like me hair? Or do you think I should cut it?" He was only saying that because he couldn't think of a single other thing to say. Louis had completely blindsided him.

Louis had an immediate answer for_ that_ question. Thank God he did, because he didn't know what the fuck else to say.

"Uh, no. I don't think you should cut it."

"Good! I would have if you really wanted me to, but I like it long too."

Now, why would Harry cut his hair just because Louis wanted him to?

"Do you always do things just because people want you to?" Louis couldn't help asking the question because Harry was giving the impression of being a little fickle right now.

"Oh, no! I'd only cut it if _you_ wanted me to, not anyone else."

Well now, Harry had a way of saying noteworthy things that Louis could never attach anything absolutely concrete to. Was he just talking gibberish because of the champagne, or had he really meant it?

"Well, ah, thanks," Louis said. "And why me?" followed directly after. Louis had to ask. He couldn't just let it go. He guessed he was like Harry in that way.

"Because I respect your opinion."

"Well, don't you have an opinion of your own?"

"Of course I do. But if me cutting me hair made you happy, I'd do it."

It was just that simple in Harry's mind, Louis supposed. Whether or not it meant anything more, Louis still didn't know.

"I feel light and carefree," remarked Harry.

"It's the champagne. Aren't you at all used to drinkin?' asked Louis.

"Well . . . not really. I've only had alcohol a handful of times, and never got proper drunk."

Wow, he _was _naïve. That thought prompted another thought Louis wasn't wanting to dwell on, but did anyway. Had Harry even had sex? Oh, he had to have. And, in all probability, he liked sweet, innocent girls with temperaments similar to his own. Louis couldn't see him with a girl who swore, wore heavy make-up or looked slutty.

"What're ya thinkin' about?" asked Harry. Louis was thrown off, and once again, was reluctant to lie to Harry. Should he be honest though, and tell him exactly what he'd been thinking of, or be vague and mysterious?

Hell, he'd been mysterious way too much.

"I was thinkin' about what kind of girls you prefer." So he'd said it. Now it would be fascinating to see how Harry answered it.

Immediately, Harry's manner changed. He fluffed up his hair as was his custom—and probably a tactic to stall for time in this situation.

"Um . . . I guess I don't really have a type."

Now that was not a reply Louis had anticipated at all. No type? What straight guy didn't have a type of girl that he preferred? Louis certainly knew what type of_ guys_ he himself preferred.

Nice, considerate, polite, masculine, yet not _overly _masculine. And also on the quiet side. Yeah, like Harry. Everything directed his thoughts to Harry. He wished he could stop doing that. Thinking of Harry all the fucking time.

"Everyone has a type!" Louis grumbled, irritated. Getting a solid answer out of Harry was major work. And yet at other times, Harry was nearly too direct and head-on.

"Well, I don't," Harry looked guilty as hell, and Louis couldn't figure out why. Maybe he_ did_ like slutty girls, and was embarrassed about it. Louis sometimes suspected Harry might have a wild streak to him, even though Harry gave no indication of that. Sometimes you could just tell, even if the person seemed pure as the driven snow.

"Okay, so what's _your_ type?" Harry spoke up. There he went again, catching Louis unwary, when his defenses were down.

"What does it matter?"

"You're the one who brought it up!"

Oh, here they went again. Going in circles, getting nowhere with another conversation.

"Um . . . I feel a little sleepy," and Harry's head was on his shoulder again. The urge to thread his fingers into Harry's hair again was monumental. To slide his hand down the front of his V-neck tee shirt was also unbearably appealing. It was almost a _necessity_—the urge was that strong.

But what could he do? Nothing. Not a damn thing. And all because he didn't know if Harry was gay or not. Not for sure.

Harry got up and stumbled off in the direction of his bedroom. A combination of the champagne and sleepiness.

"You okay to get into your pajamas?" asked Louis, blushing the instant he realized how that had sounded. But Harry didn't seem fazed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

Louis had started to walk away toward his own bedroom when Harry came in for a hug. Louis instinctively started to back away, shocked at how ingrained this thing was with him avoiding Harry. A hug was what he had been craving earlier, after all. And was _still _craving.

"Bring it in," he said, acting like he was resigning himself to it instead of straining at the bit, looking forward to it.

The hug might or might not have been just a little too close, a little too intimate—Lou couldn't be sure. But he knew one thing for sure—how good Harry felt. Pliable and sweet. He despised himself for not leaning and relaxing into it. And when they parted, he found himself yearning for another one. Yeah, it would take a while to learn to soak up Harry's affection.

But he shuffled away, glancing back at Harry one more time for good measure.

They each went to their prospective bedrooms, Louis' mind wandering to delicious possibilities—but he'd better get them out of his mind, because they were things that would never happen.

Harry fixed them hot Grapenuts for breakfast. Louis had never had it hot before, and he quite liked it.

"What do you think of it?" asked Harry.

"It's quite lovely. Seems like a different cereal when hot."

"I know. It's one of me favorites."

They were out all day, browsing Walmart and getting some errands done, and finally, at the end of the day they hit Toys R Us. It didn't take Harry long. He found the perfect teddy bear in less than ten minutes. It was a big one—about three feet tall, plush, and a nice shade of chestnut brown. Louis couldn't believe it at first, but after analyzing his feelings a bit, he realized he was actually_ jealous_ of that teddy bear.

Rubbish! It was inanimate! It wouldn't be cuddling Harry back, it wouldn't kiss him, it wouldn't whisper sweet nothings in his ear. It wouldn't do all the things Louis wanted to do.

And that night, as Louis passed Harry's room on the way to his own bedroom, Harry's door was ajar, and, with the light from the hallway shining into Harry's darkened room, Louis could see Harry, hugging his teddy bear in sleep.

Louis kept a wistful smile to himself, and God, how he wished he could be that teddy bear.


	16. Chapter 16

It was inevitable that it would happen sooner or later.

Harry and Louis were walking the dogs. Or rather, Louis walked the dogs, and Harry stayed a step or two behind. A blue classic Camaro rumbled by very slowly, the souped up engine purring, and then roaring as the driver revved it up. Louis slowly raised his eyes, fully knowing who it was before he even saw the car.

Joe. Norman and Doug were also in the car. Louis gave them a long, hard look that said "don't fuck with me," and he continued walking toward the dog park.

Duke, the German Shepherd, growled softly at the car. "Good dog," Louis said to the animal.

"Ignore them," said Harry.

"We can't ignore 'em forever, Haz. Sooner or later we'll have to face 'em again. We may not want to fight, but it looks like they still do. And it's three to two, which is really bloody cowardly on their parts."

They got to the dog park, the blue Camaro passing by every few minutes. Clockwork band (or what was left of it) was making sure they kept Louis and Harry in sight. They threw a few insults out of the window, but Harry and Louis walked on, with Louis seething every step of the way, but nevertheless keeping his mouth shut; taking the high road.

When they got to the dog park, Louis turned the dogs loose into the enclosure and came out to be with Harry. Today he wasn't going to leave Harry out there alone for a second. They were standing there when the Camaro came by for about the fifth time.

"Tonight, just after dark. In that area over there," Joe pointed out of his window toward the small park area next to the dog park where Louis and Harry had had sandwiches a few weeks ago.

"Will you lay the hell off, Joe?" Louis sputtered, just about at the end of his patience. "Leave Harry, leave _us _alone. Move on with your life and do sommat useful."

Joe just laughed. "Faggots. We'll be here. And you better be too," and with that, he stomped on the gas and was off, his tires spinning and squealing.

The name calling boiled Louis' blood. An end had to be put to this.

"Lou, I'm sorry. This nightmare just won't end," Harry looked so regretful.

"They're punks, I tell ya! We can take 'em and end this once and for all."

"No, Lou! There's three of them, and only two of us!"

"So? You and I have worked on your fight moves most nights for weeks now. We can handle the three of 'em."

Harry's eyes bugged.

"I'm serious, Haz. We can. If the others fight like Joe does . . . "

"I don't know how they fight, but I know we'll be in danger."

"No we won't. It'll be a cake walk for us to take 'em down."

Harry didn't look so sure, and Louis knew he'd have to convince him in just a few short hours. Harry would have to be confident, and use the skills Louis had taught him. If he did, Louis was certain it would only last a few minutes at most.

"Look Harry. I don't want to fight 'em any more than you do, but they're forcin' us into it. Every time they see us in public they'll taunt us. If this will end it for good . . ."

"You're right," agreed Harry. "But I just don't seem to stop causin' trouble in your life."

"Look, I knew how they were when I asked you to live with me. I didn't go into this blind. I knew they'd be back. I could've washed me hands of you then. But I didn't. Doesn't that illustrate to you that your friendship is way more important than some wimpy bullies? They're all talk, Haz. They want to make themselves look tough. They have to be stopped. And now. Tonight isn't too soon for me. We'll have to go to Mr. Hammond's tomorrow night or sommat. This can't be put off."

"Okay," Harry was so nervous his teeth were chattering, but he pushed at his jaw with the heel of his hand so Louis wouldn't notice. That was when Brooke showed up. They knew she was coming because they heard her Pomeranian's familiar yapping. No other dog on earth sounded like that one.

"Hi Louis and Harry," she said. "Who were those thug-looking things shouting at you?"

"Oh, no one even worth mentionin,'" replied Louis. "Just some creeps."

"How are you, Brooke?" asked the ever-polite Harry. He was feeling confident now that he knew Louis had no interest in her.

"I'm good. You guys need to be careful though. Those guys looked pretty rough."

"We can take care of ourselves," Harry said without sounding like he was boasting, but rather, trying to reassure her. She looked fretful. She was fond of them, Harry could tell.

"Is this all you guys do? Walk dogs?" asked Brooke.

"Oh no. We watch movies, do errands, go out for ice cream and stuff," answered Harry.

"Oh, good," Brooke looked strangely gratified at his reply, and Harry idly wondered why. Maybe she thought they were sweet on each other. If so, she was close. At least on Harry's part.

Louis sensed how near Harry was standing to him as they chatted with Brooke. He felt the curly haired man's warmth, felt his hair brush his own shoulder, his sleeveless shirt allowing his arm to touch Louis' own sleeveless arm. Louis fought the urge to press even closer.

_Deep breaths._

The days were getting warmer as they approached summer. It had been a cooler than average spring, and it was nice to be able to finally wear sleeveless shirts. They were almost to tank top weather, and Louis looked forward to that. So far, he had only worn them on the rare occasion when it was warm in the apartment. The more skin of Harry's he could look at, the better. Now that it was June, that kind of weather was guaranteed to evolve within a week or so.

Brooke looked forward to it too, but she knew all she'd be able to do was look. Harry and Louis were really into each other. She had come to the understanding that they would never find her attractive. They were too caught up in each other. Those gentle doe eyes they had for each other . . .

Louis also noticed something fascinating at the moment-how close Harry was standing to Tiffany. Inches away. Harry had gradually lost most of his fear of the dog. She was his favorite, and lately he'd actually been talking to her, that gently waving tail seeming to calm his fears.

Louis watched Harry's interaction with the Sheltie for just a bit, then, as they said goodbye to Brooke, he purposely dropped her leash once the dogs were out of the dog park and ready to commence with their walk. He knew he could bend down in an instant and retrieve it, but he was conducting a mini-experiment. And it worked.

Harry crouched down in a flash, grabbing Tiffany's leash without even consciously thinking about it. Once he was sure Harry had a good hold of the leash, Louis walked on with the other dogs, pretending he hadn't noticed he'd dropped it.

"Uh, Louis! You dropped Tiff's leash!" Harry said semi-hysterically. Louis kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard him with all the traffic sounds, knowing Harry wouldn't let go of the leash.

When they reached the opposite side of the street, Louis casually drawled, "Okay, let's take 'em home."

"But—" Harry started to talk, and then saw how calmly Tiffany trotted at his side, never pulling or lagging. She was all Louis had promised she'd be. A perfect lady. His smile stretched so far it almost ran wild and overtook his face. Another half a block, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He had to say something.

"Lou! Look! I'm walkin' Tiffany!"

Louis gave him a mild, self-satisfied look. "Of course you are. You've been able to do it all along. I had faith in you, and you just proved me right."

Harry was so proud to present Tiffany to her owners when they reached her house. This had been a huge step in his journey to lose his fear of dogs, although he didn't know it. Louis knew it would be a steady progress from now on, as they'd now crossed the most critical hurdle, making him feel such pride in Harry.

That evening Harry and Louis had briefly gone over all the self-defense moves Louis had taught Harry, and when it was nearly dark, they headed over to the park in Harry's Rover. Harry insisted on taking his vehicle—he didn't want someone accidentally or purposely damaging Louis' car during the fight.

Harry was nervous, and that was the only reason Louis feared for him. He knew Harry could take care of himself by now. Louis was fully prepared to take on two of the band members alone. He'd taken on two guys before, plenty of times back in Doncaster. Harry only had to take on one, and he was confident Harry was more than capable.

The big problem was that if Harry remained this nervous and tight, he wouldn't be able to perform the moves he needed to. He'd be stiff and awkward, and that would certainly hinder him in a fight. Louis had tried to explain to Harry how to relax just enough so that he would remain alert, yet be supple. Louis stressed how important it was, but he didn't know if he'd convinced Harry that he'd compromise himself if he didn't loosen up.

It was too late to discuss it any more now, because, as they pulled up at the park, they saw the blue Camaro parked at the other end of the small parking lot. The others were still in the car, so Louis assumed they were waiting for darkness to fall. It wouldn't be long. Maybe another ten minutes, because it was twilight now.

Louis wasn't nervous, but he was on high alert, and ready for anything. He had informed Harry that if they saw the other guys with any kind of weapon, they would retreat and go to the police. This fight would be bare hands only. Louis wasn't taking any chances of Harry being hurt. As it was, he was vigilant, watching Harry's side of the vehicle even more than his own. He didn't want anyone sneaking up on his friend and getting the advantage by way of surprise. This would be a fair fight, or there wouldn't be a fight at all.

When figures began to exit the Camaro and walk the few feet to the grassy park area, Louis and Harry shared a look that said, "here goes nothing," and got out of the Rover.

The five guys met on the grass.

"Are ya ready to get a serious ass whippin'?" asked Joe.

"Not gonna happen. Three against two, eh? I guess you think you need an extra person?" Louis said this as if he was on a street corner, shooting the shit with a friend, as if he hadn't a care in the world. It infuriated Joe, which was Louis' aim.

Louis maintained the image of relaxation and complacency. It was all just an act. Louis' eyes were actually everywhere. Joe hated his smugness, and that made him rash, and more likely to make mistakes. Louis was aware of all of it. Messing with a person's mind was as important as the physical fighting.

Harry was holding up well considering, but wished things would start moving before he had a chance to really think about it and end up having a nervous breakdown.

Norman and Doug suddenly made their move. Obviously, this had been planned, and Joe stood there, watching. Louis wondered, in the brief moment he had to ponder it, if Joe wasn't afraid, and so had directed the other two to attack. It would be no surprise, as Joe was a big talker, but when it came down to fighting, was frightened and not at all sure of himself.

Louis flew into action, and as Doug came at him, he ducked, causing Doug to swing high and wide and get off balance. Taking advantage of this, Louis shoved him hard and he hit the ground. Louis swung around to see how Harry was faring just in time to see Norman land a punch to Harry's cheek.

_Ouch._ It wasn't a terribly hard hit though, and Harry recovered a second later, nailing Norman across the mouth with a much harder punch than Norman's own had been. Louis marveled at how steady Harry was—how in control.

Louis spun back around again, expecting Doug to be coming at him again, but it was both Doug and Joe this time. Bastards. Kicking Doug viciously in the knees first, then smashing his fist right between Joe's nose and eye, both thugs went down. Doug was writhing on the ground in pain, but Joe tried to disable Louis by striking out from his position on his back, kicking wildly at Louis' groin.

Louis jumped back, then asked, "Had enough?" of Joe, who began to get to his feet, coming at him again. Louis let him get up, then shoved him backward just enough to land another punch to his face. Joe swung wildly, not losing his balance this time, and slugged Louis near his left ear. Louis' entire head was ringing, but he got in another punch, and Joe hit the ground again. As Doug tried to get up, having mastered the worst of his pain, Louis kicked him in the chest hard.

With them both down, Louis spun to see how Harry was doing. Apparently,, Harry had landed another sound punch, and, at last, landed Norman in the dirt. When Norman attempted to get up, Harry stepped in again, and delivered a hard blow to his shoulder with his elbow. Heartily, Louis silently approved.

Now all three Clockwork members lay on the ground, and it didn't look like they'd be getting up at least for a couple of minutes.

"Let's get outta here before I really lose me cool and kill a couple of 'em. You can have the third one," Louis joked to Harry, and they walked to the Rover, got in, and drove away.

Looking over at each other, they both laughed. They were going to have battle scars, but the other three were going to look much worse. The side of Louis' head was throbbing, and Harry's cheek and temple area were already turning purple.

"Well, we won't have to worry about them anymore. Now we can get on with havin' dinner with Mr. Hammond in a couple of days, and me meetin' your new bandmates," Louis smiled through his pain. He got an equally miserable, yet happy smile from Harry, and they drove home, knowing that now they could now finally embrace their new lives and put Clockwork behind them.

When they walked in the door, Harry touched his tender cheek. It was swollen, but not bad. Louis really _was _tough. He wasn't complaining, and Harry felt like crying from the pain. Son of a bitch, but it hurt! They went into the bathroom, and Louis cleaned up Harry's wounds. There was a little blood on his cheek, and the bruising of course, but otherwise Louis declared Harry sound. Harry cleaned Louis up in kind, and he was able to see the purple bruises forming in front of Louis' ear. Louis never grimaced or even twitched when Harry gently used the washcloth.

When they got back to the living room, they each had a big glass of water and just sat back to rest. Harry saw Louis take a few Motrin, and then put the bottle on the coffee table in front of Harry.

So . . . Louis wasn't as tough as he was making out to be. Harry liked that. Louis was human after all—just strong and silent. Harry popped three Motrins himself, and they sat in silence, just happy to be home and together.

Later, they discussed the fight. Harry swore he was lucky with knocking Norman down. Louis begged to differ. He'd seen Harry's technique.

"I saw you doin' what I taught you. It was textbook too."

"Well, you fought off _two_ of 'em!" cried Harry.

"Not hard when they don't have a clue what the hell they're doin,'" insisted Louis.

Harry didn't believe him. Louis was trying to downplay how quick, deadly and accurate he'd been. But he wouldn't embarrass Louis by continuing to harp on it.

When Louis dropped Harry off at the rehearsal hall where he was to meet the band that weekend, Harry waved him off, telling him it would be a few hours. Picking Harry up at 9pm, after Harry called to tell him he was ready to come home, Louis walked into the place to hear Harry singing his last couple of songs before the end of practice. They were ballads.

Louis sat down in a chair and watched the band on the raised stage. The instrumentation sounded almost haunting. Slowly, Harry worked his smooth brand of magic, and it spread all over the large room. it was as if a rippling tide was washing over Louis, causing him to sway slightly with the rhythm; as if the ocean was rocking him gently. Harry's low voice caressed every nerve ending. It infused him with a rare rush of warmth. Harry's voice always had this effect on him. He'd not yet been able to describe to Harry how his voice basically hypnotized him. It was like the beginning and end of tranquility. The beginning was euphoric and the ending came with the conclusion of the song, always a disappointment that it didn't last longer. The subtle vibrations of Harry's understated vibrato made it difficult to remember to breathe.

At the end of the second song, they called it a night, and Louis met three of the nicest guys he could imagine Harry working with. Stewart was the bass player, quiet and very modest. He did look Louis in the eye however, and Louis liked how he didn't flinch from Louis' cerulean gaze. It did seem to intimidate some people. The guitar player, Nathan, was a lot more spirited, with unflagging energy and a good, positive attitude. He was the one who got the crowd going, according to Harry. The drummer, Nick, was somewhere in between as far as energy went.

The combination seemed to work, as far as Louis could see. He could detect no animosities or resentments between the band members. They seemed free and easy together. They meshed in harmony, and although they had lively discussions about the music—and he'd heard this from Harry—they didn't argue, but rather, talked out their differences and preferences in how a song should be played. This took a lot of maturity, and Louis was relieved that Harry had found a group that was this sophisticated. Harry had been perceptive and prudent in choosing them in Louis' opinion. It had only been a brief meeting, but Louis had a very good feeling about the band members. He had learned to sniff out bad intentions from his Doncaster days, and he sensed none here.

They were all open and inviting toward Louis, offering him a soft drink, which Louis accepted.

On the way home, Louis suggested they stop for some takeaway, since they hadn't had dinner, and he didn't want Harry having to cook this late, after practicing for hours.

"So how'd you like 'em? The other band members?" Harry was anxious to hear Louis' assessment.

"Well, keep in mind I don't know much about bands, but from what I saw and heard, I like 'em a lot. The music sounded good to me, keepin' in mind that I'm no music guru. And of course, it goes without saying that I loved listenin' to your voice."

This had Harry blushing—something he didn't do as often anymore, now that he knew Louis better.

"They gave me a hard time about me face. The bruises, you know," Harry said sheepishly.

"You told them what happened, didn't you?"

"They already knew anyway 'cuz word spreads fast, but I still told 'em you and I demolished Clockwork," he said with a laugh. "That's why they didn't ask why your face is all bruised too."

"So what'll happen to Clockwork now?" Louis asked.

"No one will sing with 'em because they have a bad reputation now. So I'm guessin' they'll have to disband."

Louis laughed. "I guess we _did_ demolish Clockwork. In more ways than one."

"We cleaned their clocks," Harry said devilishly.


	17. Chapter 17

Mr. Hammond's face lit up like a Christmas tree when Louis and Harry showed up at his door with dinner for the three of them. They'd called him first, of course, to see if it was alright if they came over.

"You boys are a rare breed these days," the older man drawled as he let them into his house, a cigar in his hand, and smoke surrounding them so thick you could hardly see to walk.

Harry handled it with absolute grace. "You're a rare breed yourself. You recovered fine from surgery, and you even walk your dogs again," he remarked cheerily.

Mr. Hammond chuckled. "Those two are lively, alright. But they keep me on my toes."

Mr. Hammond had to be eighty if he was a day. But he was spry and showed no sign of slowing down. The only proof of his age was how he walked hunched over a bit. But just a bit, and not enough to limit his activity, or keep people from admiring him. He was admired most of all for his positive attitude toward life.

On the other side of a sliding glass door, Harry and Louis could see his two dogs looking in at them, obviously feeling dejected at being banished to the outdoors and not included.

"Bring it in here," Mr. Hammond indicated the dinner Harry was carrying, and the dessert Louis hefted. It was a fruit salad that had to weigh at least ten pounds. Or, at least it felt like it.

"What happened to your faces?" was one of the first things to come from the old man as they sat down at the kitchen table. "You two kids beatin' the shit outta each other?"

"No, but it's kinda a long story," said Harry, but Mr. Hammond insisted on hearing it, so they told him. They recited the entire story about Clockwork, the fight, and Harry's new band.

"Well now," Mr. Hammond sat back, puffing away on his cigar, and increasing the amount of smoke in the room to a new level. Louis still smoked, although he was trying to quit, and Harry never had, so they had to pretend that they didn't feel like choking while totally immersed in the smoke.

"Where'd you learn to fight, young man?" Mr. Hammond asked of Louis.

"I was born in Doncaster, and parts of it are pretty rough."

"Oh, so it was a matter of survival," said Mr. Hammond, nodding sagely.

"More or less," acceded Louis. "Well, actually, massively," he amended, still feeling he was understating.

"And you did pretty well for yourself with Louis' tutoring? Mr. Hammond directed to Harry.

"Yeah, thank God for him."

They ate then, after Mr. Hammond had brought out plates, glasses and silverware.

Louis chewed avidly at the biscuit he'd plucked from the towel-lined bowl. Harry made the most delicious flaky, fluffy biscuits.

Dessert was strawberry shortcake, which they all gorged on, and soon everyone was so full that they were bordering on uncomfortable.

"I shouldn't have had that last piece," admitted Mr. Hammond as he rubbed at his tender stomach.

Louis, frankly, was eager to get back home, so after some more small talk, he gave Harry a look. All Harry had to do was glance at Louis, and he knew what was up. They eased themselves gracefully out of the chairs, washed the dishes, and putting them in the dish drainer, they took their own dishes home, bidding Mr. Hammond goodbye, and feeling guilty. They knew the old man would have gladly talked for another couple of hours.

"You're lookin' so snatched tonight," Harry said casually as they approached the apartment door.

_There he went again. Paying Louis compliments._

Louis didn't know what the point was, except for that Harry was just plain nice.

"Uh, thanks." Louis was wearing a brown button down patterned shirt and rather clingy jeans. They'd shrunk a bit more than he'd expected in the dryer.

"I like your jumper," Louis replied, giving as good as he got. "Pretty soon it'll be too warm to wear it."

Harry nodded, agreeing. "I'm ready for warmer weather. It's been right cold this winter."

"No shit. I don't like bein' reminded of how cool and rainy England is. I'm likin' this California weather; at least most of the time."

"Me too," Harry said this absentmindedly, surreptitiously eyeing Louis' butt as Louis entered the apartment ahead of him. Damn, but if that butt didn't seem to get more succulent by the day! The tight fitting jeans did it the justice it deserved. He was half-hard, just watching Louis walk into the living room with that confident air of his, arms swinging, butt inviting a squeeze. Something Harry would _never _do, but dreaming about it never hurt anything.

"So what do you think of Brooke?" asked Louis.

"Oh, I think she's pretty nice, actually."

"Yeah, I misjudged her at first, when she came on to me."

"I wonder why she stopped doin' that?" Harry had an impish grin on his face. Almost like he was teasing Louis.

Louis ignored that statement.

"It's like at first she was tunin' us both," Harry added.

"Think so?" Louis was busy rubbing at a spot on his shoe, avoiding Harry's gaze. He had a nagging feeling that Harry was going to say more. He tensed, a little ill at ease.

"Can't say I blame her though, when she came onto you." This got Louis' attention. He looked up.

"Why?" Louis realized he shouldn't have said that. He'd fallen right into Harry's trap.

"You're hot," Harry said simply.

When Louis didn't respond, Harry jumped in again. "But she thinks we're _together._ But before she said that, I was afraid she wanted to do a _threesome _or sommat."

"Christ, Harry! You say the damndest things! What's got into you?" Louis' face was flushed severely—he could feel it like fire, prickling his skin. Why was Harry teasing like this? He was evidently trying to get a reaction out of his friend, but what _kind _of reaction was a mystery.

"This whole conversation is just . . . weird," Louis didn't know what else to say. "And you're not supposed to notice if a guy is hot."

_Now . . . was that really necessary?_ Louis asked himself. Harry wasn't stupid, and that shouldn't have been said. Louis didn't seem to be able to control his own mouth, although it was true Harry wasn't especially trying to be subtle.

"Why not? Don't you want me to be honest?" Harry looked so frustratingly innocent when he said that! Louis didn't know what was up or down. He was completely rattled.

"Well . . . well, of _course_ I want you to be honest!" his voice was raised now. "But why did you say _that_?"

"Say what? That you're hot? Because I think you are!" Harry threw right back at him.

Well, Harry could sure hold his own in this humiliating conversation. And tangle Louis all up in knots while he was at it.

"Oh, for God's sake," Louis turned on his heel and retreated to his bedroom. He was going to have to think about this, and what it all meant. His mind was racing, and he wished he could undo the whole interchange. He laid down on his bed.

Wasn't this what he'd wanted? Harry noticing him? Hadn't he been attracted to Harry since the beginning?

Well, being attracted was something that could sometimes be hidden, as long as you didn't admit it. Now he was questioning how hidden it really was. He was in a real pickle. Harry must be on to him.

Silently, like a ghost, Harry appeared beside his bed, and Louis realized he hadn't closed his door.

"I'm sorry. I thought we, um . . . could talk to each other." Harry's head was hanging, eyes downcast as he stood there.

"Of course we can talk, Haz. It's just that I don't know if you're jokin' 'round, or if you're . . . " his voice failed him.

"Serious?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, serious."

"You're hot, and I'm not ashamed to say it," with this, Harry's chin went up, and he had a stubborn look. He sure could change faces in a hurry.

Louis wanted him out of here, now. Harry was causing Louis to think too much. And that could bring on trouble. He might be attracted to Harry, but no way was he going to act on it! Or even admit it to Harry. So he said nothing.

"You're not gonna kick me out, are ya?" The tone of Harry's voice nearly broke Louis down.

"No! Of course I'm not! I've told you before. We're good roommates. We get on well."

"Then, um, then I'm sorry about what I said. Can we just forget I ever said it?" Harry's eyes were pleading. It made Louis want to jump up and hug him, hold him in his arms, kiss his cheek, tell him that he felt the same way, and all was forgiven. But instead, Louis silently agreed by merely nodding.

Harry turned and humbly walked out of the room.

The conversation was bound to come up again. It wasn't going to just go away with a snap of his fingers. Louis was afraid there would be hard feelings between them, but, by some miracle, things went back to the way they'd been before almost immediately. Within two days, Harry was sitting up against Louis on the couch again, and Louis wasn't pulling away.

Louis had told his mom on the phone about his new roommate, and she was glad to hear he'd found a good friend. She'd worried about him ever since he'd quit his old job. She had been afraid he'd become a hermit. Those had been her actual words.

It was true he hadn't had much of a life. But he'd been pretty much content by himself. _Pretty much,_ but not completely.

Louis couldn't stop his thought process. Every time he had even a couple of minutes when he wasn't busy, Harry's words would come back to him. Harry's actions too. Actions that had an even louder voice than words.

He went out on the porch one evening after dinner. Harry could see him sitting on the steps when he peered out the window. There was a cigarette in his hand. The light from the tip of it glowed reddish in the late afternoon sun. Louis always smoked more when he was angry, upset, sad or deep in thought about something important to him. Any strong emotion brought it on. He'd definitely been smoking more lately, Harry had to admit to himself. Maybe smoking wasn't good for Louis, but Harry thought he looked massively sexy when he smoked.

What should he do? Approach him? Or did he want to be left alone?

Harry was so fond of Louis, and he couldn't bear the thought of him being unsettled about something. He felt so pulled to him, and also so attracted to him that he often found it difficult not to reach out and touch him. This happened all the time.

Harry stepped out on the porch.

"Lou? You need to talk or sommat?"

Louis startled as if he'd been a million miles away in his own mind. But his smile was soft. Inviting even.

"Sit down, Haz," Louis indicated the empty space beside him, shifting his cigarette to his left hand so Harry could sit on his right.

Harry sat down cautiously, not wanting to appear too ardent to sit next to his roommate. But hell . . . he was already past that point. He thirsted for Louis' regard. Things had been good, but he'd sensed a certain amount of restraint on Louis' part. Or maybe it wasn't restraint at all. Maybe Louis just didn't feel as congenial toward him anymore. And he hoped that wasn't the case. He knew Louis was trying not to encourage him and his tender feelings. Things weren't precisely fair for Louis right now. Harry had put him in a difficult position.

If someone doesn't return your feelings, it's always awkward.

"Things are changin' all the time, aren't they Harry?" Louis had turned his head as he blew smoke straight up into the air, then pinning Harry's eyes with his own.

Harry cleared his throat. Things changing? What did Lou mean by that? He could mean a lot of different things with that remark.

"Sorry?" asked Harry.

"I wasn't very clear, was I?" Harry watched as Louis' expression turned slightly inward, and out of the ordinary. Like he was concentrating very hard. Debating something, perhaps?

"No, not exactly," Harry replied. The atmosphere was tense, and Harry sensed Louis was going to say something that was burdensome for him.

"The things you said the other day . . . I don't know what to make of them," Louis said haltingly. "I'm pickin' up on things, but I keep talkin' meself out of it. Like . . . it must be me imagination or sommat. I'm caught between 'is he playin' 'round, or is he tryin' to tell me sommat.'"

Harry tried to digest this before he said anything. His heart started to race. He _had _been trying to tell Louis something, but common sense had told him he shouldn't.

I've been rude to you when you might've been tryin' to communicate sommat." Louis took another drag from his cigarette, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You're kinda talkin' in riddles right now," Harry started out carefully. "Can you be a little more clear?"

"That's part of the problem. No . . . I can't. If I say the wrong thing, I reckon it'll all blow up in me face, and you might get . . . withdrawn, alienated."

Harry had to help him out somehow. It was clear that Louis was just not able to articulate what he wanted to.

Harry shifted a bit so he was a fraction of an inch closer to Louis, hoping his nearness would calm whatever uncertainties were distressing his friend.

"Guess I'll have to be the one to stick me neck out here," Harry sighed. "I know what you're talkin' about. About, um, me sayin' you're hot?"

Louis took a deep breath, stubbed his cigarette butt out on the concrete to his left, and let some tension out with his breath.

"Yeah," he said, sounding distinctly reluctant.

"Did it upset you?"

Louis thought about this.

"Yes . . . and no. What I mean is, I'm not sure what your intentions were."

"Intentions?"

"Yeah. How did you want me to take it? Did you mean 'hot' as in what a female would think of as hot?"

"Uh, no. Um,_ both_ sexes is what I meant."

Ah, Harry was so sweetly devious, so whimsical that Louis could hardly stand it. He worked his way around questions without truly answering them directly.

Louis threw his hands in the air.

"I'm not gettin' anywhere," he said in exasperation. "This happens every time."

"That's because neither of us has enough . . . balls to talk about it without hedging."

"Well, you're the one who said it, and so you can't put the blame equally on me. I wish you'd just _say_ it and be done with it! Whatever the fuck you're doin' here is makin' me mind run in circles. I haven't been sleepin' much. I've been ruminatin.'" Harry had to understand what this was doing to him.

"I came out here especially to find out what was wrong, but you won't tell me," Harry was so persistent in refusing to spit it out. Instead, he expected Louis to do the talking when it should be mutual. Hell, he might as well admit it-they were both guilty.

"You're maddenin!'" cried Louis.

"Yes! Yes, alright. I think you're hot. Didn't explain meself, but there's a reason for it. I was testin' you to see . . . "

"See what?"

"See what your response was."

"And was it what you expected?"

"Well, um, yes and no."

"Oh my God, Harry. I wish I had a tape recorder! If you could just hear yourself talkin' in circles!"

"Can't help it. I'm as dubious with this as you are," was Harry's again, indecipherable reply. "Or should I say dodgy?"

"I don't think I'd go as far as to call us dodgy," mumbled Louis, brows furrowed in introspection. He wanted to deck Harry for putting him through this, but of course he wouldn't.

"Then we're big-time avoidin' the issue."

"I agree. And how do you propose we solve this . . . standoff?"

"By bein' honest. Thing is, I don't think it really _is_ a standoff," Harry was suddenly passive and bashful again.

_Were they getting close?_ Louis wondered if this would turn into a confession or a denial. They'd come this far—why back off now? No standoff, Harry had said. So what he meant in essence was that they were coming from the same place. They were both being stubborn and acting clueless, when they both had a better than reasonable idea of what they were tip-toeing around.

"Okay then. Be honest, Haz. I wanna hear it."

Harry attempted to say something on several occasions in the next five minutes. Louis saw his every gesture, subtle as it was—a scratch to his ear, a fake cough, an also-fake clearing of his throat. Wringing his hands. Drumming his fingers on the concrete. Finally Harry got to his feet, walked a few feet away, and turned back around to face Louis, who was still sitting on the porch step.

"It's simple really . . . . and it might ruin everythin,' but I have to say sommat now, or forever hold me peace," he fake grinned at his own feigned wittiness, trying to push aside his high anxiety. "I'm attracted to you."

Louis went numb. Absolutely fucking numb.

_All this time. All this time he'd desired Harry so much, and Harry had been feeling the same way._

Well, there it was. Everything was murky—surreal. He shook his head slightly to clear it, but it had no effect.

He knew had to tell Harry now. If he didn't come clean, Harry would feel humiliated and think it was a one-way street. It wasn't.

So Harry stood there, the remaining light from the day fading fast, the sun going down, gleaming golden on his face, and Louis almost gasped at his beauty, saw the wonder in his eyes. Those eyes didn't avoid his. He looked at Louis with a transparent adoration that he couldn't have hidden if it was going to kill him.

The seconds ticked by.

"How long?" asked Louis.

Harry took a deep breath, shoved his hands in his front pockets.

"In the grocery store, the first day I saw you."

Louis thought back on that day, as he had so many times before, and recalled how Harry looked back at him just before going out the door. Right at him.

"So how do we sort this out?" Louis' own voice sounded far away to him. Like an echo. This couldn't be reality, could it?

"Sort it out? We can't. Not without your own input."

Harry had every right. Every right to ask how Louis felt about him. He'd put himself out there, and now it was Louis' turn.

Louis took a deep cleansing breath.

"Same here. In the grocery store, the first time I saw you."


	18. Chapter 18

So at last, it was out in the open. Louis sat there, and Harry stood there, and they stared at each other. They were attracted to each other, and each of them had admitted it. Now what?

It used to be exciting when he and Harry stared at each other. Now it made Louis restless. His breath came in gasps and gulps, and he knew Harry must see how his shoulders rose and fell with the effort of breathing normally, and not achieving it.

Looking at Harry, Louis saw that his chest was expanding more than usual. So he was breathing hard too with this new knowledge, this discovery that had once been a question.

Harry was stunned senseless. What should he do? Go sit down next to Louis again? Or would he spook him? There was already a wariness in Louis' eyes that Harry took as a warning of impending flight.

"Don't be angry with me Lou," he said so softly that Louis barely made out the words.

"I'm not angry, Haz. I'm a little mad at meself, I guess. That I wasn't up-front with you sooner."

Harry fidgeted, and Louis patted the concrete beside him again. Harry immediately came back to sit with him.

"I should have said sommat too. I'm just as upset with meself as you are with yourself."

Louis smiled. Harry's heart lifted a bit. The universe felt a little softer.

"Right. So let's go inside, yeah?" Louis picked up his spent cigarette butt, brushing the ashes off the edge of the step. As they went back inside, they still hadn't touched, except to sit close as usual. Once on the couch, Harry remembered something.

"Remember the day you said sommat about feeling . . . desirous when I was singin?'"

Louis half-chuckled, a little self-conscious. "Yeah, I do."

"Do you feel comfortable enough to talk about it now?"

"Yeah. And yeah, I meant I was desirous of you. But you must have already known that. I mean, we did everythin' but say it out loud."

"Yeah. And I was freaked out that it might not be what I wanted to believe."

They stared at each other again, neither one wanting to be the first to make a move. Louis didn't know for sure if Harry was gay or bi, or even if he'd been with anyone before, but felt it was out of line to ask that now. The time would come when it would be more appropriate to ask questions of that nature. The one thing he _did _know right now was all that was needed at the moment.

Louis had never been in love. He'd only had casual sex and only a couple of short-term relationships. All with guys. Never with girls. But the subject would come up sooner or later, and right now, they were both trapped in a state of shock. Afraid to even touch each other . . .

Harry could see the consternation and look of unrest on Louis' face.

"Hey, nothin' has to change. No pressure. Let's just chill, man."

Louis couldn't believe it. Here was Harry, trying to reassure him, when it should probably be the other way around. Louis still doubted Harry had much experience, yet the guy was putting his trust in Louis.

"Wanna watch a movie? How about some porn?" Harry asked.

Louis was so alarmed that he very nearly fell off the couch.

"Relax! Just kiddin!' You didn't think I was serious, did ya?"

"Uh, no. Just surprised me. But you're right. I need to lighten up."

"No shit!" Now Harry was starting to sound like Louis. Louis had to giggle to himself and shake his head.

"What? I'm a grown man, and I'm allowed to cuss, yeah? Livin' with you is conducive to it after all. So I decided to loosen up."

Louis was ambivalent about if that remark was meant to be a good thing or a bad thing regarding himself, but he'd give Harry the benefit of the doubt and assume it was positive.

Seeing that Harry was just trying to get him to relax, Louis contemplated this, and determined he would stop making things so difficult for Harry. He'd been too touch-me-not for too long, and being gay, living with a very attractive guy in every sense of the word, it was stupid to keep resisting. Especially now that it was obviously mutual.

Everyone gets hurt, and everyone has to accept this, or never allow themselves to love.

_Love?_ He and Harry already had an exceptional, unique kind of love for each other. He wasn't afraid to admit it. It came from shared experiences and common interests, as well as interest in each other. But it was way too early to even fathom them getting physical and developing even deeper feelings. For now, it was best to continue as they had been, and not be afraid or consumed with eventualities.

"When do you guys start doin' gigs?" asked Louis.

"Not sure. Probably within two or three months. When we get enough songs, and get 'em soundin' we're all on the right page."

"Will you and the band be writin' the songs? Or singin' other people' songs, or both?"

"Probably both, but the bass player writes, and so do I, so I'm hopin' we'll use a lot of our own songs."

"Exciting, that."

"Yeah, it is."

They turned a Western on, but both just pretended to watch it. They were too busy pondering this torturous yet fascinating venture they were trying to navigate. It was all such a novelty, and even though Louis had been in relationships-of-sorts before, Harry was so atypical of any guy he'd dated or had sex with before.

Harry's hand innocently rested on the back of the couch, as it often did, and a mere brush of it against Louis' back or shoulder sparked a flame of desire so scorching that Louis was jarred. They were sitting almost—almost, but not quite as close as they usually did. Louis knew Harry was giving him space.

"You . . ." Harry was going to say something of significance. Louis could tell by the tone of his voice.

"You, um, are you just attracted to me . . . or are you actually gay?"

Louis was honestly relieved Harry was asking. This had to be answered precisely. He had to make sure Harry understood how important he was to him.

"Yeah, I'm gay. No interest in women. But about me attraction to you . . . well, it's different." Louis scratched his two-day-old scruff, struggling to come up with words that had value and made sense. So Harry would understand.

"You have to understand," he went on. "I never would have asked _anyone_ to share me apartment with me. There was just . . . sommat about you. I like your attitude and even your quirky ways. You _get _me. You broke through me barriers and you didn't let me intimidate you. Not much, anyway. You stayed 'round, put up with me shit and made things . . _. fun_ again. "The silly stuff—the hot chocolate, the Furbies at the mall, the way you like to hug impulsively. Well, these things . . . endeared you to me." Louis was thoroughly flushed now. But at the same time he hoped he'd made an impression.

A moment later, when he was sure Louis was done talking, Harry's smile let Louis know he did understand. His dimples didn't lie.

"How about you?" asked Louis quietly, as if Harry was a deer who might flee.

"I've always been gay. I've always known it. I've tried with girls, but . . . it was pretty clear they weren't for me early on. I haven't . . . I haven't had a . . . boyfriend," he said bashfully, his long lashes lowering. "Not really."

"So you haven't . . . " Louis figured Harry would finish the thought. And he did.

"Well yes, I have. But just a very few times, and no real relationships at all."

Louis nodded. He'd figured as much. "I've had a couple of relationships that went nowhere, and didn't last long at all. But I've probably had more partners than you." That was an understatement, Louis suspected.

"I might as well be truthful to the limit," Harry smiled. "I'm scared . . . I'm not ready for . . . "

The words were left suspended in space, and Louis knew he'd have to retrieve them.

"A sexual relationship?" he asked, trying not to blush, because, after all, he was twenty-nine years old.

Harry looked relieved that Louis had rescued him.

"Yeah," he said. "Affection I can deal with. Sex . . . well, um, I'm not sure."

Louis knew then that something had happened to Harry once upon a time.

"You had a bad experience, didn't you?" he asked as gently as he could.

Harry evaded his gaze and nodded, saying nothing more.

Fair enough. Someday when Harry was ready, and only then, would Louis find out, but even now, knowing nothing about it, Louis felt anger—no, _fury,_ at whomever had hurt or frightened Harry.

"Hey, no big deal. Not about what happened to _you,_ but about _us._ I won't insist you tell me anythin.'"

They went back to watching the movie, and before too much longer, Harry was practically in his lap again, their ankles entwined.

Louis loved it. Loved it when Harry walked by and took a sip of his drink now and then, even though he had his own. It felt strangely intimate. He loved it when Harry called him "Tommo." They were just little things, but they captured Louis' heart in a big way.

Louis had, in the past, enjoyed going to the local street races once in a while, so one Saturday night, he brought it up to Harry. Harry's clear green eyes danced and glittered at the idea.

"So we'll go!" Louis was pleased with Harry's eager response.

It wasn't legal, and Louis always felt a little shady when he raced his Mustang there. But hell, he never broke the law in any other way, and this allowed him an outlet for the sixteen-year-old he'd once been, and still occupied a small part of him.

He loved speed, and he loved winning. His Mustang was powerful and fast, and he loved showing it off. He won his fair share of the races. There were "look-outs" stationed at all the points where a cop could possibly show up. One phone call would set off a domino effect, and within a minute or so, everyone would disburse and leave the area. If someone was unfortunate enough to get caught, they were rarely arrested. It was usually just a warning.

And so, on this warm, mid-May night, there was a big turn-out. Even bigger than usual. All makes and models of cars were in attendance, everything from stock to high performance; the revving of engines heard from every direction. Louis and Harry parked and watched a few races. Most were serious with impressively built engines involved, but some were comical, like the Smart cars, Cubes, old Volkswagons and even an occasional very old Ford Pinto competing against each other. Harry and Louis laughed so hard a few times that their sides ached.

"What does it do in a quarter mile?" Harry asked Louis of his Mustang.

"Stock, this car would be in the high fifteens, but it's hopped up. It's got . . . "

"Stop," warned Harry. "I know nothin' about race cars or anythin' that isn't stock. And if you try to tell me about it, it'll all go 'whoosh' over me head."

"Okay. You don't need to know any of that anyway. You just need to ride along."

"Really? You're gonna race it tonight?" Harry was suddenly electrified and animated. "How do you go about it?"

"Well, it's all real laid back and casual. We just get in the line-up in the Mustang, and the guys find a car they think will be a good match for it, and then we race. It's that easy."

"Let's do it then!" Harry was absolutely afire, and clearly very ready for the experience. Louis laughed.

"I always love your enthusiasm, Haz," he said.

Once in the line-up, they had over twenty cars ahead of them, and it was just a matter of waiting. Louis saw that Harry especially fancied the classic muscle cars, like Louis' own. The GTOs, Roadrunners, Chargers, Challengers, Firebirds, Camaros, Superbees and Novas. The muscle cars of the sixties held a special intrigue for him. It was another thing they had in common.

"But ya know, I really do like your car the best, yeah?" Harry stated. Louis didn't know if Harry was truly serious, or if he was wanting to pay him a compliment. That would be just like Harry. Not kissing his ass or anything like that, but making sure Louis knew he admired his car, whether it was really his favorite or not. Either way, it was a nice gesture that warmed Louis' heart.

"Thanks Haz. I'm rather fond of it meself."

So was everyone else. They got plenty of stares and thumbs-up from the crowd.

When they finally got to the front of the line, there were lots of "oohs" and "ahhs," which Louis was accustomed to, but was a novelty for Harry, who sat up straight and proud in the passenger seat. Louis had to do his customary revving of the engine. If he didn't it just wouldn't feel right. The engine's purrs, growls and then roars had Harry squirming in anticipation, and arousal. Yes, _arousal._

The vibration from the engine, the general buzz of expectation from the crowd of dozens of people, and Louis' nearness all worked together to create a unique feeling from within, an excitement that affected him in a very interesting way. This had never happened before, and he didn't know what to do about it. He could hardly say anything to Louis about it, because Louis would think he was some kind of demented pervert.

Harry found himself in a precarious situation—rock hard in his pants and the more Louis revved the Mustang the worse it got.

The appointed organizers of the race found a likely match not far away; a car neither Harry nor Lou had noticed before. Louis' mouth dropped open as it drew closer. It looked a little too familiar. A classic 1969 Camaro SS. It was turquoise, and Louis gasped when he saw that it was Joe's car. Well, as soon as Harry saw what Louis was staring at, it took care of his hard-on in a hurry. He felt himself suddenly shrinking in his pants.

"Oh my God! It's Joe!"

Louis seemed to be totally in control in spite of his shock.

"I know. We didn't plan it this way; they picked Joe's car to race us. Now that I think of it though, our cars might be a pretty good match for a race," he said thoughtfully.

"But we can't! It'll get 'em all ready to start shit again!" cried Harry,

"Oh no it won't. I don't think you realize how badly you and I scared 'em in that fight."

Harry looked over at Joe, whose car was lining up with Louis,' and saw the fear plain as day in Joe's eyes. Joe looked away abruptly. He really was scared of them! Norman sat in the passenger seat, and he was making it a point not to look over at them at all. Joe himself continued to avoid their eyes like they would turn him into a pillar of salt.

"They're scared shitless!" exclaimed Louis, keeping his eyes on Joe, trying to hook his eyes, but Joe remained unresponsive.

"Excuse me?" One of the race organizers came up to Louis' window, advising him that there would be no use of nitrous, then then walked over and said the same to Joe. Both drivers nodded their assent.

"Will we beat him?" asked Harry tentatively.

"I don't know," Louis said truthfully. "Not sure what he has under the hood, and he doesn't know about me car either. So we'll see."

Now both cars, gunning their engines, were on the starting line that had been drawn in chalk. _Vroom! Vroom!_

_Well, this should be interesting, to say the least._

When the signal was given, the cars took off, and Harry's head snapped back. He felt as if he was taking off in a rocket. He'd had no idea of the power Louis' car had, but Louis had once told him it had 500 horsepower. Well, he believed it!

As Louis furiously speed-shifted, Harry knew real fear. He trusted Louis, of course he did. But there comes a time when even complete trust can be shaken just a little bit when something of this intensity occurs.

Harry saw Brooke in the crowd just as they were rocketing faster past her, faster than anything he'd ever ridden in. She was jumping up and down, cheering them on.

"Go Louis, go!" He could see her lips mouth the words.

They reached 60mph in just under six seconds, and the Camaro was only about half a car length behind. This race was a quarter mile, and it wouldn't end too soon for Harry. All sorts of things spiraled through his head in that short amount of time. What if Louis lost control and they crashed? What if Joe decided to ram his car into Louis' Mustang? So many terrifying and/or tragic things could happen. They were going so fast that Harry could hardly keep his eyes open, and also afraid of what he might see. But he didn't want to close them and have Louis think he was a wuss. Not that Louis would notice anyway, as he was putting all his concentration into shifting and gaining speed.

That quarter mile took longer than Harry ever would have dreamed possible, but then he was clenching his fists, holding his breath, feeling every little motion, every little rough spot in the road, every noise (and there was a lot of it) and praying for it to be over, with no one hurt.

The sound of the two muscle cars roaring was music to Louis' ears, affecting him like a tonic. He'd missed this.

They flew over the finish line almost a car length ahead of the Camaro. Even though Louis was feeling very smug, he didn't look over at Joe. He let the win speak for itself. Not only had he and Harry beat them in a fight, but now also a car race! And one that was completely unplanned!

Louis swore he could hear Brooke's shrill voice over the sound of all the cheers and nearby engines priming for the race when he rolled his window down. Harry assured him that he had indeed heard Brooke—after he had finally remembered how to breathe again.

The Camaro disappeared as soon as the race was over, which wasn't any kind of surprise. Those Clockwork guys were about as humiliated as anyone could be. Louis almost –not quite, but _almost _felt a little sorry for them.

"Holy shit!" said Harry. "We aren't gonna race again tonight, are we?" His voice shook a little.

"Nah. Let's go home. Got me adrenaline fix for tonight,"Louis gave an evil laugh as he waved to the crowd and Brooke and they navigated back home.

"I never dreamed your car was that fast!" Harry was still in disbelief. "I thought me head was disconnected from me neck for a minute there!"

Louis threw his head back and laughed. "Why do you think I haven't let you drive it fast? I need to give you a crash course in governin' your need for speed once you get behind the wheel."

"Oh, don't worry. I was scared out of me mind just with _you _drivin' it like that! I'd never, ever try that! It was kinda hot though, now that I think about it." His mind drifted back to how Louis had been so in charge as he shifted the powerful machine.

Louis went into a fit of laughter again.

"Harry, you do say the damndest things!"


	19. Chapter 19

When Louis and Harry arrived home from the street race, they settled into their familiar, comfortable routine. Tee-shirts and pajama bottoms, since it was now too warm for sweats.

"If I could fly . . . " Harry said out loud as they sat down to a simple dinner of macaroni and cheese and hot dogs.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, your car is so fast, that I thought I was flyin' for a short while there . . . but wouldn't it be nice to fly?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, but way up there, I know I'd get carried away, and just keep goin,' and pretty soon I'd get lost and wouldn't be able to find me way home."

Harry had a quick answer to that one. "Oh, in that situation I'd take flight, and bring you right back home to me," he declared with a smile.

"Harry," said Louis softly.

"Louis," Harry replied.

And this was to become a habit. Just saying each other's names. It was enough, and it said a whole hell of a lot without explanation. They also enjoyed their method of silent communication, and the staring was also still part of it.

They washed the dishes and settled on the couch, neither one wanting to retire to bed, as they would be separated.

Louis often wondered when things would move forward, but he didn't fret about it. Harry needed space to heal from whatever had happened to him, and Louis was sure he'd talk about it in due time, but it had to be on Harry's timeline. Meanwhile, he hoped he was proving to Harry that he'd wait for him—that Harry was more than worth it to him.

"Are you out to your family?" Harry asked.

Louis no longer got as jolted as he had before when Harry came up with momentous questions without warning. He was accustomed to it by now.

"Yeah, I am. Me mom accepted it right away, even though she was shocked. Same with me sister. Me dad can't wrap his head 'round it, but his feelins' toward me didn't change."

Louis was about to ask Harry the same question when he remembered Harry had no parents or siblings. So he worded it a little differently.

"The family you have left—have you told them?"

"No. never saw any reason to, since I don't see them often with them bein' in the UK and all. So it helps that there really isn't much of anyone to judge me."

His grin was a little cringy. Louis wondered if Harry might be a little bit bitter that he had really had no one to come out to. But it wasn't in Harry's nature to dwell on it. He didn't seem to have the capability to be depressed.

"How about other people?" Harry asked, referring to Louis.

"Nope. Never told anyone at me corporate job, or now. Figured it's none of anyone's business."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"We haven't hugged lately, so bring it in," Louis said this in a rush so he wouldn't chicken out. He was craving one of Harry's hugs in the worst way.

Delighted, Harry pulled him into his arms, hugging tightly as usual. But this time, they didn't let go for a while, and instead of perching on the edge of the couch, they both naturally seemed to lean back until they were nestled against the back of the couch, in each other's arms.

They were always reading each other's minds, and this night was no different. Harry buried his face in Louis' neck, for real this time. They'd both turned their faces toward the other's hair when hugging before, but this was the first time Louis could actually feel Harry's lips brush against his neck, and goose bumps popped out everywhere.

He quivered without meaning to, but he had no control over it. But he also didn't move so he could savor the immensity of the effect Harry had on him. His breathing quickened, and he thought his heart would hammer a hole in his chest. He felt Harry tremble too. It was intense, and very nearly overpowering.

Louis had never felt this type of desire before. And it did frighten him—he couldn't deny it. What if he developed strong feelings, and Harry didn't? That would really suck. Harry was making him feel like he was desirable—not like a cheap lay. There had been too many of those in his past. Louis was still so scared he'd misread the friendship for something else, and meanwhile Harry would think he was just lusting after him. If Harry came to that conclusion, Louis' fantasies that he had when he lay in bed would have to sustain him. And they weren't just fantasies of sex. There was so much more than that.

They had admitted their attraction to each other, but Louis didn't know how to communicate to Harry that he didn't want it to lead to something superficial. Harry was afraid because of what had happened to him—whatever it was—in the past, and it was important that he know that Louis wasn't like that. Oh well, he was overthinking again, and it wouldn't solve a thing.

The hug was not ending, and Louis was breathing like a damn dragon. He was aware that it might trigger Harry into panic. But Harry was breathing just as hard, and now was actually tentatively _kissing _his neck! If ever in his life Louis felt he was going to lose control, it was now.

Those moist lips. Louis held on tighter, as if Harry might be taken from him at any moment. Was this real? Were they on the couch, hugging, Harry kissing his neck for real? Or was it a fanciful dream, a fantasy?

But no, it had finally happened! Their attraction had finally reached a physical level. Harry's lips moved to Louis' cheek, and he rubbed against Louis' scruff, lips moving awkwardly, testimony to his lack of experience.

It wasn't one bit less exciting to Louis though. In fact, Harry's clumsy moves aroused Louis even more. It told him there hadn't been many before him. And that Harry trusted him. It always came back to the trust.

Louis couldn't help it. He dipped his head and began to kiss Harry's neck as Harry had done to him. He reasoned he couldn't scare him too badly by doing this, because Harry had just done the same thing to him.

Harry moaned, and Louis almost came right then. The sound was earthy and raw. In a way, it affected him like Harry's singing when he got to the emotional part of a ballad, only sexual. Louis took a deep, bracing breath. He had to keep a grip on himself. At least enough to not have an orgasm in his pants. Never had he felt a fraction of this excited with another man. He'd have to really watch it.

It was when Harry started to nuzzle that things got even more hairy. And Louis thought things had been bad before . . . greedy lips, hot breath, sounds of passion. Did Harry know how he was killing Louis with desire?

It was only his neck, damn it! But Harry made it so passion-filled, like he was making love to Louis. Louis realized now that he'd been right. Harry had a wild side. A sizzling side that was relentless. It was building his desire . . . building it to a precarious level.

"Ah, sorry. Gotta go have a wee," Louis was up and off the couch in one second flat, heading for the bathroom. Once there, he relieved himself, and it took no more than two or three strokes. Highly embarrassing, but a gargantuan compliment to Harry.

When he walked back into the living room, he tried to act as if he'd just peed, but he was painfully aware of Harry's eyes studying him. He wondered if Harry knew . . .

Within a few minutes, it was as if he hadn't gotten relief at all. He was back to almost the same place he'd been. Harry got up soon after, and Louis wondered . . . When Harry returned, his face looked blotchy, like he'd been in the sun for too long.

The flirting started then. And it was almost non-stop. They avoided close contact. It had to have been a silent kind of understanding that needed no commentary or interpretation, because they didn't mention it, but the acceptance and knowledge was there, if only in their minds. Each knew the other was at his own slippery limit, and so that was how the flirting began. The teasing.

Louis had never been a flirty kind of guy. He was serious, pragmatic. Hell, he didn't know _how_ to flirt, really. And he had never really seen the point in flirting. After a good dose of Harry though, he started to see its appeal. Harry's cheeks would pinken, he'd lower his head and get an impish look on his face, then snuggle into Louis. It was tantalizing, a sweet kind of torment, and Louis wasn't sure which was predominant. But he did know he loved it. How had he lived this long without Harry?

He loved the "not knowing" what was going to occur next, because Harry was a perpetual curiosity.

It felt so good. Knowing his Donny friend seemed to be anticipating what he would do next. Harry loved thinking stuff up too. Should he tickle him? Get into his personal space? Or something more obvious? He did it all. Everything but touch Louis inappropriately or take off any of his clothes. But he wanted to—oh, how he wanted to. There was too much intimacy to endure when they got really touchy-feely, and Harry suspected Louis had gone to the bathroom out of necessity, as he, himself, had. They weren't ready for that, and beside that, Harry was jumpy about anything sexual.

Troy had been the only guy that Harry had even considered having a proper relationship with. They'd spent some time together. Quite a bit of time, actually. They'd gone to a gay club a couple of times, had listened to music at Troy's house, Troy being into music too. He was a friend of Doug's, one of the Clockwork band members. He had expressed an interest in Harry early on, and Harry had, innocently, fallen into his trap.

They hadn't said anything to the other guys in the band, but of course, they'd found out, because keeping a relationship secret wasn't the easiest thing to do. And Troy had a way of throwing strong hints around. He'd never made it a secret that he was gay, and liked to boast about conquests. Harry should have realized that he might not have minded Troy's bragging about himself if he'd been in love with him._ If_ it was done tastefully. But taste wasn't something Troy possessed.

There's wasn't a real relationship. It had started out as a friendship, until Troy had worked his claws into Harry by increments. Harry had found himself attracted, and after that, things had gradually escalated.

One night, coming home to Troy's house from a club, Troy came on hot and heavy. He'd been drinking, and Harry had not. Troy wasn't drunk—just buzzed enough to get aggressive with Harry. The real Troy emerged, and he began to kiss Harry forcefully and insistently, cramming his tongue into Harry's mouth, and then trying to undress him after cupping him through his pants. They hadn't been intimate yet, so this behavior repelled Harry.

Harry had protested, and nearly gotten himself raped. He got out of the front door and hid behind bushes a little distance from Troy's house and called Norman, who, thankfully, came to get him. Meanwhile, Troy was still searching the neighborhood for Harry.

Of course, Troy had called Harry and apologized up and down, saying it was the alcohol, and it wouldn't ever happen again. When Harry thought back, he realized there had been many warning signs prior to that night. Troy had been very possessive, to the point of not even allowing Harry to talk to other guys. He'd also insisted on knowing where Harry was going, and what he was doing every minute, and was constantly calling him to check up on him. Even halfway accused him of cheating on him. This was all in about three weeks' time. Harry wondered how much more demanding and possessive Troy would have gotten if he'd stayed with him.

Harry ended up having to move out of his apartment because Troy kept coming over at all times of the day and night, pounding on the door. Harry hadn't let him in, not after that night Troy had tried to rape him, but had feared many times that Troy would break in. Troy didn't have enough nerve to do that, but Harry knew he had to get away, regardless.

After that, Harry had seen Troy a few times. He was, after all, a friend of Norman's so it was nearly impossible to avoid him completely. And every time Troy would try to get him to go out with him, Harry would refuse. Harry had seen the anger in Troy's eyes, but Harry made sure they were never alone. There were always people nearby, and he knew Troy wouldn't risk having anyone see him being forceful with Harry.

Come to think of it, the others Harry had been intimate with had not been gentle. They had taken advantage of him, something in his sweet innocence triggered the alpha in them. But _mean_ alpha. Harry decided he didn't care for dating. If all guys were what he'd experienced, it wasn't what he wanted at all. Maybe he was too romantic or something, but he didn't like being manhandled.

So, even though Harry trusted Louis, he couldn't help getting tense when he thought of getting intimate in any way. He hadn't had sex or even a casual date since Troy. Then Louis had come along, and, for some reason, he gave Harry good vibes, and Harry had shocked himself by being so forward with him. He hadn't ever been that way with anyone before. His instincts told him Louis wouldn't force himself on him. He hadn't known if he should fully trust his instincts though. But now, after all this time, he believed Louis was the person he presented as. Unless all gay guys were rough in that way . . .

So Harry and Louis continued to flirt, and it wasn't long until the day that Louis actually kissed Harry. Harry was astounded that he didn't pull away. It was only a kiss—it wasn't anything more than that, but _what _a kiss!

Louis had come out of the bathroom after his shower, jeans riding low on his hips, in just a tee-shirt, and Harry had wondered if he knew how succulent he looked. Bouncing across the living room with his jaunty gait and a cocky look on his face, Harry found him irresistible.

When Harry stared at him, Louis had raised his eyebrows in question, making him look even more cheeky.

Harry had licked his lips, just playfully. He hadn't really meant anything by it. Louis had stopped dead in his tracks and had given him a hard look.

"You and the derpy things you do," Louis shook his head.

"What'd I do?" Harry was testing the waters now.

"Flirtin' again."

"I wasn't flirtin,' I was just lookin.'"

Louis acted as if something inside him had snapped. He'd grabbed Harry's belt and pulled him toward himself. Harry had come willingly, having thought about an encounter with his handsome Donny roommate all day. He loved the snuggling on the couch, the slightly suggestive remarks they exchanged, the hugs Harry frequently found an excuse to initiate.

They hadn't hugged in a few days because Harry was out of ideas. He had no more clever lines to titillate Louis. They had never said anything openly sexual to each other, but the electricity snapped and sparked just the same. Complimenting each other and eyeing each other was really all it took. Even mild insults could set them off. Both were secretly ready to combust every time they got within touching distance.

So when Louis pulled him close, right up against his chest, Harry didn't resist.

_It felt good, God it felt good, to be this close to him._

Harry was breathless almost immediately; Louis' crystal blue eyes held him captive. He couldn't move an inch. Not even if he'd wanted to. Fighting the shyness, Harry looked back; his eyes just as green as Louis' were blue. They did a dance. Look away, look back. Look away, look back. This went on for maybe a few seconds or maybe a few minutes. Maybe a few lifetimes.

Harry was in limbo. He was apprehensive. What did Louis want? The warmth of Louis' breath tickled his cheek, and Louis slipped both arms casually around his waist. It felt so natural, and yet so . . . foreign.

And then Harry realized with a start that Louis was nervous too. His breathing was uneven, and when he looked away, he seemed slightly overcome, cautious. Harry liked this. Louis wasn't demanding—he wasn't even suggesting. He was merely _there,_ waiting for Harry to give him a signal. Harry had never been treated this respectfully by a man before. And it drove him mad with desire.

There was also desire in Louis' eyes, to be sure. But it was desire held in check. There was also an abundance of fondness, and, in fact, this seemed to prevail. He liked that, a _lot._ How was Harry going to explain to Louis that he was scared as shit to get closer? To let Louis touch him? Louis would take it the wrong way if he were to draw back.

Harry felt so awkward, so goofy. Just standing here like this, getting more and more antsy. Wanting Louis to make the decision. But that clearly wasn't happening. Louis' expression was no longer cocky. Now he was humbled—but by what? Harry wasn't sure.

Harry's tee-shirt had ridden up just a touch in the back, and Louis inadvertently slid over the exposed flesh with a finger. Instantly, Harry recoiled. Louis yanked his hand away from that spot.

"Sorry. Wasn't intentional," he crooned in Harry's ear. Steady, Hazza. Easy."

Soothed, Harry relaxed and leaned into Louis again. "The bastard must have really abused you or sommat," Louis added, then wondered if he should have said that or not.

Harry didn't react. Instead, he buried his nose in Louis' neck. Louis' deep inhalation was not lost on Harry. Harry felt Louis' lips on his neck in return, and his knees went felt like rubber. He wanted to collapse. Louis hummed softly as he ravaged Harry's neck with sweet kisses and tiny nibbles.

Harry was stunned that he was surviving this treatment. He hadn't known—had never known that this kind of desire was a "thing." If he'd known, he never would have settled for the rough, uncaring treatment he'd gotten from others.

Louis worked his mouth over to Harry's cheek, and then to the edge of his lips. Harry kept his eyes closed, as they had been since the neck kissing had started. He wanted to absorb all the sensations, with nothing else to get in the way.

"Sweet. You're sweet," murmured Louis. His voice was a little raspy. It sounded so seductive to Harry. He could feel the front of Louis' pants and the steel hardness behind his zipper. This excited and terrified Harry as one. Louis might be gentle now, but he might turn into a rutting animal at any moment. Fear clutched at Harry just as Louis' mouth found his.

Louis had taken extra, precise care to move slowly. Ever so slowly. Harry couldn't know anything but sweetness and tenderness in this encounter. Louis needed to prove to him that he was harmless, wouldn't harm a hair on him.

Louis' lips got Harry's immediate and rapt attention. They were soft and questing, moving lightly over his own lips. Harry was afraid, yet so very curious. It felt awesome, and he didn't want it to stop. So he kissed back. He'd had very little kissing before. It had always been "get down to business," and not much else.

This was feeling actually romantic. Louis kept things slow and measured for only so long. He wanted so desperately to insert the passion he felt into the kiss, but knew he had to use a lot of mindfulness and discretion. He absolutely could not offend Harry in any way.

The kiss deepened, without Louis even trying to. It just happened. His lips opened, and Harry's followed in kind. There was no tongue, but there didn't have to be. Harry tasted delicious. It was heady, drugging. Harry was responding, not pulling away, which, all by itself, was thrilling. Harry was into it.

Louis' mouth moved with a slow, deliberate passion, and he relished and treasured how deep this was—how intense. Soon he would seek Harry's tongue. But not today. He moaned, eating at Harry's mouth, his libs rubbing and massaging. He could tell Harry wasn't accomplished at kissing, but this only served to drive him to greater arousal.

He found himself wanting so badly to suck at Harry's tongue, but instead he continued to caress with his lips. Harry moaned himself now, whimpered, even.

Louis had to break free. The intensity, the heat, was too much.

"I'm sorry, Haz. I'm . . . I'm so thirsty for you. I have to ease off a bit."

But just a few minutes later, when Harry said softly, "Kissy," Louis didn't hesitate.


	20. Chapter 20

After the word "kissy" had been murmured by Harry, Louis needed no persuasion, and they did just that. It lasted for freakin' ages.

It was a wild ride. Even though he proceeded very slowly and gently, Louis felt as if his mouth was having miniature orgasms, over and over. It was so blissful that his head swam.

He'd never been much of a kissing type of guy. Wow, had he ever missed out! Harry was opening up a new world to him. Before he knew it, Harry had crawled into his lap, and their mouths were making love.

Sex had never been much more than an act of completion to Louis. But this . . . this was amazing. All his loving feelings for Harry bobbed to the surface, as well as all his lustful desires. It was like a massive wave that kept flowing over him. Waves that he welcomed. The undertow was powerful. He swam with the current, although he felt like drowning in the passion.

He had never needed anyone as much as he was coming to realize he needed Harry. Harry was domestic, free spirited, and seemed to be able to handle someone taking care of him. Louis _wanted _to take care of him.

After they'd kissed for minutes or hours—who knew, and who cared? they just collapsed on the couch, full on exhausted, yet desperate for more closeness. Harry's mouth had been so sweet, so willing. Louis couldn't trust himself so he reminded Harry gently about taking things slowly.

"You've had a bad thing happen to you, and you need to learn to trust me with all your heart and soul. Not half, not three-quarters, or even ninety-nine percent, but one hundred percent."

Harry understood this, and said as much.

"This won't be a one-off, am I right?" asked Louis.

"Oh no! Not on me part!" Harry said with emphasis.

"Nor me. We'll have to learn together, as I've had no tenderness in the past either. You're a romantic, and I guess I need to learn how to be, also. I've no idea how to go about it. All I've had was the animal kind of couplin.'"

Harry winced, and Louis assumed he was remembering something unpleasant from the past himself.

Even so, Harry was full of anticipation. He loved the things Louis was saying. It was giving him hope. It was everything he'd wanted to hear, except for the reminder that Louis had only had sex like an animal. Louis turned him on so much that he would probably have had sex with him without any guarantees or even reassurances. But this was turning out better than he ever could have dreamed.

"I don't know if it's the right time for me to be sayin' these things to you straight away," Louis continued. "But you need to understand because of the circumstances. You don't ever have to fear me. I may have treated you rudely, and was certainly a dick to you a few times, but that's not the inner me."

"I know that, or I wouldn't have hung 'round," Harry reminded him. "But I may test your . . . patience."

Louis didn't hesitate to reassure him. "You're worth waitin' for. Besides, sex isn't the main reason I'm so eager . . . "

"Tell me. Tell me the main reason."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I want you so much that I'm ablaze with it, but . . . the way you've put up with me, and still had faith that I'd treat you right at some point. I don't know, it's hard to explain. Me heart hasn't felt this kind of tenderness before, and it's blowin' me mind."

Harry mulled this over. He wondered what exactly Louis was trying to say.

They were stretched out side by side on the couch, and Louis' hand just naturally went to Harry's hair again. He seemed to be obsessed with it. The texture, the silkiness, and the light, fresh scent. Harry closed his eyes to savor the sensual feeling of Louis' fingers tunneling through his hair.

"Ummmm," Harry hummed in pleasure.

Louis, not able to tolerate those delicious sounds coming from Harry's mouth without acting on his impulses, stopped and began to rain moist kisses all over Harry's face, astonished, even as he did it. He never thought he was that kind of guy. Sappy, syrupy. But with Harry, it was so easy. Too easy—too easy to become soft. Harry was turning him to mush. He thought of Harry singing, and how he couldn't get enough of that unforgettable voice.

Fear gripped him, hooked into him with something deadly and razor sharp, feeling like a warning. To be soft was to be weak, and he was programmed to be strong, or at least _appear_ to be strong. Harry was making that difficult—impossible, in fact.

But the fact was, he wanted more of Harry's mouth. Wanted to explore it more. When he began to kiss Harry again, he couldn't get enough. Harry was letting him lead the way. Trouble was, he didn't know which way he was going. He didn't know what he was doing, period.

This sweetness was terrifying, and yet it was addicting in the worst way. Like someone who has an insatiable sweet tooth, he couldn't escape it. He felt like an insect caught in sticky syrup; he tried to extricate himself, but the drugging saccharine kept pulling him under. After a while, he decided he didn't want to fight anymore. He wanted to see where this would culminate.

But then, he changed his mind just as quickly.

He was serious, very serious, and couldn't deny it. But he was also needed to be extra cautious. No more fooling around for him. If this was meant to be, it would be. But he didn't want Harry getting the wrong impression. He didn't want Harry thinking he was just going to be a toy for Louis to play with. It wasn't going to be just about sex, and Harry would have to know that without a single doubt.

Louis had been with guys he didn't love, and didn't even really care for. Afterward it had always left him feeling empty, hollow. He didn't want that feeling ever again. And he knew Harry had his own baggage to add to the load.

Frankly, Louis was afraid of Harry himself wanting a superficial relationship. He didn't think that was the case, but again, he hadn't known Harry for that long. At some point they'd have to have a long discussion. Harry had assured him it wasn't a one-off, but Louis wasn't quite convinced. It was too early presently to go into it much further, and that was unfortunate because he felt he was being tortured with a desire he hadn't even known was possible. Even just lying here, on the couch was requiring a massive dose of self-control not to tear off Harry's clothes and run his hands all over his body—doing insane things like telling Harry he wanted him forever. He could think of an abundance of things he could do to pleasure Harry, and he'd give just about anything to see how Harry would react. But he'd have to wait for that. Other serious issues had to be dealt with first.

He also was fearful Harry would somehow cause him to become helpless and dependent. He'd taken care of himself in the streets when threatened in any way since he'd become a teenager, and he didn't want to lose his sharp edge. Harry could possibly be his undoing. His sweet distraction.

He felt obsession creeping in on him. It would be so easy to let his defenses lapse. He'd also be wide open to hurt. If you don't love, you can't get hurt. That was his reasoning. He _wanted_ a forever so how would he manage to tell Harry he was afraid of just that?

Oh, the myriad of thoughts that crowded his mind! They were hopelessly tangled as his brain raced through the possible eventualities. He didn't want to get involved because of the hurt that might await, and he didn't want Harry to get hurt either.

And meanwhile, Harry was sucking on his neck. Experimenting, trying to find out what pleased Louis. Lord help him, but if Harry didn't stop, he'd not be able to contain himself much longer. Harry had absolutely no idea that no matter what he did, or how he touched Louis, he turned him inside out.

Louis might want to go slow and easy, or not do anything at all but kiss—because it was safer; but he was a sexual person by nature, and that was one temptation that Louis had not honed his skills in regulating. Especially now that Harry was here. Harry was everything Louis wanted in a guy. He hadn't known what he'd wanted until he'd met Harry. Not just seen him, but talked to him and discovered what he was like. Harry was definitely his type, and everything the guy did and said had Louis panting after him like a dog. And it frightened him, that another person could have such a strong influence on him.

Harry jostled him out of his thoughts.

"Kissy?"

Oh God, no. Louis knew he was about to get more fired up than he already was. Sexual desire for his friend was spilling right over the brim. Like hot coffee, it threatened to burn him.

"Maybe we should put that off for a while?" he suggested, putting it in question form so it would soften the impact.

"Why?" Harry's forest green eyes implored.

"It's just . . . the wiser choice," Louis said weakly. He couldn't tell Harry he wanted desperately to ravish him, because that might make him wig out.

Harry's demeanor changed in an instant. He got up slowly from the couch. He seemed to droop.

"I don't bloody mean I don't _want _to," Louis wrestled from within to explain. When he saw the disappointment in Harry's eyes, and also the distance that crept into them, he felt like he might go to pieces.

Harry mumbled something about going to his room to read, and before Louis could even protest, he disappeared, closing his bedroom door behind him faster than Louis could process what was happening and get up from the couch. As if that wasn't bad enough, Louis could hear him locking the door too! He had never known the sound of the click of a lock could hurt so much. As far as he knew, Harry had yet to lock his bedroom door.

Louis was at Harry's door as quick as his legs could carry him.

"Harry! Let me explain, or try to," he plead through the door.

"No . . . that's okay. It's fine. I just wanna, um, kinda be alone."

That was all he got. So . . . Harry thought he didn't want him—didn't want to kiss him. What could be further from the truth? Nothing, that's what. Nothing.

Perhaps it was best that Harry didn't unlock and open his bedroom door. Louis was a mess. He didn't even know how he felt about anything for sure. He wanted Harry, but he didn't. What if he were to invest himself in Harry, and have it not work out? Wasn't it better to maintain a friendship/roommate relationship? At least that way there was less chance of things ending badly. And he wouldn't lose Harry, because he would remain his friend.

* * *

When they got up the next morning, Louis had spent most of the night deliberating in his mind. He knew now that just kissing Harry would get him in deep water in no time flat. The effect the handsome curly guy had on him was astounding. So if he were to kiss him again, he'd have to commit himself. To what though? No one could predict the future, and he didn't fancy unknowns, so he'd have to just sit on it for now and hope for the best.

They didn't discuss it, and that day, Louis offered Trinket to Harry to walk. The tiny Shih-Tzu that didn't have a malicious bone in her body. And Harry accepted. He felt he needed to prove to Louis that he could overcome his fear of dogs. He wasn't one to give up easily, and he hoped he could impress Louis. Even though Louis didn't want to kiss him. That hurt right down to the bone.

He'd been rejected, and he tried desperately to hide his devastation. His eyes didn't connect with Louis,' and he tried to act normal, knowing Louis could probably sense he was hurt. But did Louis know the extent of his hurt? He massively doubted it.

"Pretty day, innit?" Louis tried to make light conversation even though the searing pain of Harry's disappointment and his own silly vacillation mingled in his gut.

"Yes, beautiful," Harry mumbled.

Louis wasn't at all surprised that Harry had agreed to walk another dog. He sensed that Harry's mind was so occupied that he didn't register the fear he usually had of dogs.

"Next time you can walk Higgins," Louis joked, speaking of the very energetic, huge Great Dane puppy.

"Yeah, right." That was all he got out of Harry.

"Look, we need to talk tonight."

"No, Louis. We won't get anywhere. Besides, I have practice tonight. I'll be home late. We want to jam as much as we can before we start doin' gigs."

"Will that be soon?"

"Yeah, seems like it. I reckon maybe another month."

"Great!" Louis was trying to sound enthusiastic. Well, he truly was excited for Harry to start publicly performing with his new band. Uneven Emotion was causing a stir, people having heard about their new lead singer who many were already familiar with, and they were hungry to hear the music that would result with Harry's addition.

"Let's take a walk in the park. The dog park, that is," Louis continued to try to make conversation.

When they got to the dog park, Brooke was there, and she broke into a smile when she saw them.

"Loved you guys at the street races!" she enthused. "Your car is really fast, Louis!"

Louis grinned. "Thanks Brooke. Harry and I saw you on the sidelines."

"Yeah, oh guess what? I have a boyfriend! Just met him not long ago. He was there too. He was also impressed with your Mustang."

Louis and Harry were of like mind—Brooke was growing on them. She was actually likeable, not as bad as they'd first thought. First impressions are not always all-revealing. She may have dressed a little skimpily, and wore too much make-up, but she had a good heart. Right now she was studying them again. The girl had eagle eyes, and seemed to pick up on things that others might not.

"Are things alright?" she asked carefully, hyper aware they hadn't admitted their affection for each other to her directly, and, she mused, probably not to each other either. But she was sensing tension between them.

"Oh yeah, of course. Why?" asked Louis.

"Well, you guys aren't as chummy and happy and content looking as you usually are," she said, choosing her words with care. "And Harry has a dog! I haven't seen you walk one before." She'd caught on a long time ago that Harry was afraid of dogs, but hadn't let on. "I think that's great!"

"Yeah, I'm not used to 'em, but I'm gettin' better with it," Harry said, giving a very loose, open-ended explanation.

"You look like a pro," Brooke stated lightly, secretly hoping that whatever had happened between them would blow over soon. She had so enjoyed seeing their happy faces when together. She wondered briefly if they might have gotten closer, and that was where the tension originated, but poo-pooed that idea quickly. They clearly weren't ready for romance yet. She doubted they'd voiced their affection for each other. But that meant she could observe them as their emotions and feelings for each other grew. She knew she'd enjoy that. She was a sucker for a love story. She still thought they were excellent boyfriend material for each other. If there was anything she could do . . . but no. They had to work it out themselves, and she might get on their bad side if she tried to manipulate things in their favor. That wouldn't do, as she wanted to keep the friendship she had with them—or hoped she had. It was hard to resist though. She thought they were adorable together, and she also couldn't wait to introduce them to her new boyfriend.

After the dogs had bounced around the dog park and been walked afterward, Louis and Harry went home, and the silence in the living room was deafening. If silence could roar, it certainly did.

"Are we gonna talk?" asked Louis, knowing what the answer would be. "We have time before your practice."

"No. I really don't want to." Stubborn Harry was back.

"We can sort it out, Haz, if you'll just _communicate,"_ said Louis, frustration lacing his voice.

Little did he know that Harry was having a silent dialog with himself. He was thinking;

_You're the one who won't communicate. We kissed, I thought you liked it, and then you stopped. When I asked why, you said it was the wiser choice._

So Harry wanted to accuse Louis of not communicating himself, yet Louis was expecting it of Harry. With Harry it was simple. He'd loved kissing Louis, and Louis had seemed to love it just as much. But then he'd turned off like a light switch.

Louis, himself, felt like wilding. His frustration was threatening to rule him. Even if Harry _would _talk to him, what would he say? How would he explain how he felt? If he told Harry he didn't want something shallow, like a fuck buddy, it would seem as if he was hinting that he wanted a forever. And it was way too early for that. It would be enough to make Harry run for the hills.

* * *

_The handsome bastard._ Harry watched Louis get up to fetch the remote for the telly. Sometimes he wondered if Louis hadn't been put on the earth just to drive him mad. He watched the muscles in Louis' back bunch through his tee shirt as he bent at the waist and reached to pick up the remote.

He wanted him so bad that he was half-hard just watching him stride those few steps, and return to sit down again. They were both on the couch, but not touching. There was at least a foot of space between them. Unheard of.

"What time is practice tonight?" asked Louis, his eyes glued to the telly.

"Eight."

"So you won't get home until . . . what? Eleven or so?"

"I don't see why it matters."

Oh, so we're gonna play _this _game, are we? Thought Louis. Harry's gonna pout and throw hints around that he doesn't think he matters to me.

_Well, didn't I bring this whole thing on meself? I went and kissed him, and then refused him when he wanted another round._

They had both agreed they didn't want a one-off. So what was the problem? Louis had hurt Harry by refusing to continue with the kissing. And Louis didn't want to be crude by telling Harry that he was so sexually frustrated that it was almost impossible to contemplate more kissing, and nothing more. Harry had had a bad experience, and Louis didn't want to bring it back to the fore by getting too pushy and scaring him.

Louis wished he knew why he couldn't seem to tell Harry how he felt, aside from it being a little premature. Maybe all the mystery would be gone, and Harry would find him boring? Or Harry would really be spooked if Louis said he felt a lot more for him than just a sexual thing. It would only lead to more questioning, and Louis didn't want to mention anything even close to love at this point in time So, in reality, there really wasn't much he could say.

A touchy subject indeed! And having to sit here, seeing and feeling Harry's disappointment and apparent sorrow was torment. He felt almost forced into saying something, if only for his own peace of mind. So he did.

"I don't wanna be breadcrumbed, and I don't want a slow fade," Louis blurted out. He'd be sorry for this. Diarrhea of the mouth. But he had told the truth, and Harry could take it or leave it.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry just gaped at Louis, his mouth slightly agape , but not off-puttingly so. Kinda cute, actually. Louis waited for a comment, but Harry looked like maybe he didn't comprehend. Also, that reservation was still there. What more could Louis say?

So on the spur of the moment, Louis made a decision.

"Tell ya what. How about tomorrow night, we have dinner at a nice place, and go to a club afterward, yeah?"

Harry looked dumbfounded. This was one thing he hadn't expected.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'll take you to practice and pick you up tonight with some takeaway, and then we can go out tomorrow, since you don't have practice, if I remember right."

"No . . . I don't have practice tomorrow," Harry confirmed, still looking a little perplexed. "But aren't we gonna go to the gym?"

"We can skip it tomorrow."

"Why are we goin' out?"

"Why do you think, goofy? To have a nice dinner and then some drinks. Don't we deserve that?"

"Um, I guess so."

Louis wondered why Harry was so withdrawn. Well, he knew why, but he had hoped Harry would accept his peace offering. Would see that Louis was making an effort. Louis couldn't undo what he'd done, but he could sure prove to Harry that he cared.

They ate the takeaway when they got home. Italian, one of Harry's favorites. There wasn't much conversation, and Louis always had to initiate it. He knew Harry was hurt, but if Harry didn't want to talk about it, well then, Louis would just wait until he did. No matter how long it took.

They hit the restaurant the next night at seven o'clock sharp. The restaurant was indeed top notch, and Louis was dressed to impress. Harry tried not to gawk at him, but it just wasn't going to happen. His eyes kept drifting back. Louis was dressed casually elegant. A red polo shirt, khaki dress pants and a blazer.

Harry wore a royal blue button down, trousers and a sportscoat. Of course, the top two buttons were left undone, much to Louis' unverbalized delight. Harry seemed just as enamored of Louis as Louis was of Harry. These two cleaned up exceptionally well.

Sitting across from each other in the dim, romantic lighting, they eyed the menu, and Louis made it clear this was his treat, that Harry was to order whatever he wanted.

They were in agreement about the appetizer, as they both loved buffalo wings; so that was their starter. They shared a Cobb salad, as both knew they would be properly stuffed after this meal. Harry had the steak kabob and Louis had the Mesquite pepper steak. Everything was perfect—the atmosphere, the food and the company. The only drawback was Harry's unusually quiet demeanor.

Maybe he'd come around. Louis thought he'd been clear about his own feelings, so he started to wonder if maybe Harry was having second thoughts. Under candlelight, and not much more, Louis observed Harry's eyes were fairly glittering at the same time Harry was noticing how Louis' eyes looked lustrous and radiant.

It was evident Harry was uncomfortable when it came time to go to the club. Louis reminded him they could just go home if he wanted to, but Harry said that he thought he needed to relax, and this might be the ticket.

Harry looked a little too resigned, and Louis wanted the fun, happy-go-lucky Harry back. When they walked in, Louis felt eyes on them from all corners of the room. He assumed all the eyes were for Harry. He was used to people staring at Harry when they went places. He didn't realize what a handsome couple they were, and that people were admiring the two of them. They gave no indication of being gay, of course, but they caused quite a stir regardless. Single women were setting their sights on them immediately.

As usual, Harry seemed oblivious to the stares. Louis drank beer, and Harry ordered a Tom Collins. Louis planned on having no more than two drinks for the few hours they'd be there. He wouldn't have minded taking a taxi home, but he didn't want to leave his car here overnight.

They sat, watched the dance floor, and didn't do much talking, because the music was so loud that they had to shout in each other's ears, and Harry didn't seem to want to get that close. It hurt, but Louis understood that he'd hurt Harry too.

Harry went to the restroom a little later, and as he tried to return to the table he was sitting at with Louis, a guy approached him. Putting on a casual manner, the guy smoothly blocked Harry from his chosen path. Louis watched on like a hawk. Harry was polite, but he didn't break out the dimples. The guy must have been a master at small talk because his mouth was moving steadily. Harry kept trying to edge toward the table, but the guy kept impeding him so stealthily that the casual observer wouldn't have noticed it.

Louis didn't want to interject unless Harry was clearly in distress and needed help. Otherwise, it would look as if he had to protect Harry, and Harry might not appreciate that.

The guy looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, had gingerish hair, and was tall and quite good looking. Sharp dresser too. Louis felt a surge of some powerful emotion tugging at his insides, and it wasn't pleasant. The feeling was enduring, and he had the strongest urge to walk over and cut the man off however he could.

Harry wasn't really responding, but he also wasn't actively trying to discourage the guy. He was going into his default mode—act charming, and it usually got him his way. Not this time though. The guy didn't want to turn him loose.

Harry had the right to talk to anyone he wanted to, Louis reminded himself sternly. However, Louis was objecting to the overly friendly manner the guy was presenting. He was gradually inching closer and closer to Harry, tipping his head to the side almost flirtatiously, trying to coax Harry into engaging with him. As the guy tried to win Harry over, Louis felt the blood pulsing in his temples, now finally admitting to himself the fact that he was jealous.

When the ginger guy placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry recoiled slightly by leaning away from the hand, Louis went into action. He got up from his seat without rushing, in order not to arouse undue attention, and in a deceptively easy-going manner, walked leisurely over to the couple.

"There you are!" he said to Harry as he sleekly stepped into place beside his roommate, his hand slipping around Harry's waist while he glowered at Mr. Perfect Redhead, all in one smooth movement. Harry didn't miss a beat, bless his heart. He actually leaned into Louis, turning his head to smile at him _with dimples._ And he looked decidedly relieved. So he _had_ wanted Louis to rescue him!

Louis didn't give the guy the time of day. "Come on, sit down, babe," he crooned to Harry loud enough for the guy to hear as they headed back to the table, Louis' arm still around Harry's waist. Louis didn't give a damn what anyone thought. This wasn't a gay bar, and even though the world was becoming more accepting of homosexual couples, they still got plenty of stares, and whispers behind hands.

They sat back down, and Harry thanked Louis for saving him. "I was wonderin' if I'd be able to get away from him."

"I could see you were uncomfortable, or I wouldn't have interfered. Wanna tell me what he was sayin'?" Louis couldn't resist asking, even though he knew he should wait, to see if Harry would volunteer the information. It wasn't his business, and he knew Harry might not want to tell him about it.

But Harry continued the conversation with a coolness that Louis couldn't match. "Oh, just askin' me how I was doin' tonight. Stuff like that. I didn't like it."

Louis rummaged around in his pocket for bills to give the waitress, who had brought them fresh drinks. He didn't resume talking until she was gone.

"So . . . tryin' to pick you up, was he?"

"I'm not sure."

The way he was eyein' you, it was pretty obvious he was all in. So you really didn't mind what I did?" Louis waited with bated breath for the answer.

"It was very nice of you." Well, that didn't tell Louis much. He wondered if Harry had liked his show of possessiveness. Apparently he hadn't minded, considering he had allowed Louis' arm to stay around his waist until they had gotten back to the table.

Louis was feeling quite proud of himself. He'd claimed Harry, even though they weren't in a relationship, and had burst that cheeky guy's bubble in the process.

People were dancing to contemporary music, and Louis thought of what it might be like to dance with Harry. But again, this wasn't a gay bar, so he refrained from asking. It would probably be awkward at the best of times, but Harry was in such a pensive mood that Louis couldn't really see being able to pull it off.

Next, Louis tried the old "touch his leg with yours." Harry had, admittedly not done it at home lately, but why not give it a try? So he gently pressed his leg against Harry's. Instantly, the leg disappeared. Okay, so that was a strike against him. Seemed Harry had liked being rescued, but didn't want any intimacy or contact with the rescuer.

A wayward lock of wavy hair fell over Harry's forehead, making him appear even more sexy than he usually was, which was _unbearably_ sexy. He wanted to reach over and smooth It back, but Harry accomplished it almost before Louis could finish the thought.

Well, what else was there to do? Nothing seemed to be falling into place, or even close to it.

"Peanuts?" asked Louis, knowing they had some at the bar.

"No thanks. They don't have bananas, do they?"

Louis tried so hard not to laugh. Harry was completely addicted to bananas. And watching him eat them . . . . that was an experience he wouldn't soon forget.

"Don't think so," he grinned a bit, although he tried not to.

"This is weird, innit?" asked Harry.

"A little."

"It feels like a bad first date."

Oh boy. That wasn't a good thing. Louis got the feeling Harry wanted this "bad date" to end soon.

Resigned, Louis guided Harry out of the bar, giving Mr. Perfect Redhead a calculated stink eye as they passed him. He also raised his chin and adopted a superior air, advertising strongly to the guy that _he _was going home with Harry, _not_ Gingersnap.

"Thank you," said Harry as Louis opened his door for him. He'd never done that before, and Harry was surprised, almost tripping over his own feet. Louis supported him by grasping his upper arm as Harry slid into the passenger seat.

"Thank you also for the evening," Harry said as Louis turned the key and started the Mustang.

"You're welcome. But I don't think you had a very good time."

Harry chose not to address that, and Louis felt some distress, hoping he would have at least been able to cheer Harry up a little. It had been a failure, even though he'd given it his best shot.

"Again, thank you," Harry said out of the blue.

"What's the thanks for now?"

"Gettin' me away from that ass."

"You needed help, and I did what any friend would do." A weird statement, considering he'd put his arm around Harry, looking more like a lover than a friend.

Harry blushed. Louis knew he was thinking along the same lines.

"Did you think he was attractive?" Louis knew he'd fucked things up again. _Why had he said that?_

Harry looked stunned. He ran his hand through his curls, looking clueless. He was weighing his options. He decided, like he almost always did, unless someone's feelings were at stake—to be honest.

"Yeah, I guess he was attractive." He saw just the barest hint of dismay in Louis' eyes, although Louis probably thought he had a poker face. Harry was a master at reading Louis. Or maybe not quite a _master _yet, but well on his way.

"But not me type," he added, leaving just the right amount of a gap in the conversation to have really gotten Louis wondering.

_The sneaky bastard!_ Louis had been starting to get really worried- Harry's pause having been perfectly timed. He didn't manifest his brief, excruciating concern though.

"Oh yeah?" Louis flicked the button for the automatic garage door opener and they slipped into the garage, followed by another push of the button, and then they were in darkness. Louis had forgotten to leave the garage light on.

"So . . . what_ is_ your type?" Louis had opened his big fat mouth again. But he just could not pass up this opportunity, as it might not present itself again.

There was hardly any pause this time.

"You." Short and sweet, and Louis' stomach felt as if he'd just done a huge loop on a fast-moving roller coaster.

They sat there in the car, neither one making a move to get out, and listened to each other breathe.

"And you . . . Harry's voice made Louis actually jump, coming out of the complete silence of the black garage. So black they couldn't even see each other's faces.

"You . . . what is your type?" Oh, Harry was bold, yes. But then, Louis had initiated this. He'd launched a whole different kind of conversation, and a loaded one at that.

Louis got out of the Mustang like lightning had hit him. In two seconds flat he was through the kitchen door that connected to the garage, heading for the living room, leaving Harry behind.

_That was dirty_, he thought to himself. Ask Harry a question like that, and when Harry answered it and then turned it back on him, he'd run like a fucking rabbit. He really did need to shore up the significant holes in his courage.

"You stinker!" cried Harry as he appeared, striding purposefully from the kitchen to the living room. Of course Harry would say something like "stinker," mused Louis. Instead, he should have stormed in and called him an asshole or something worse. Harry had no ruthlessness in him. He was too soft and kind. His nature might go against it, but at least he was showing some gumption now.

"You avoided me question!"

Louis knew he was in hot water now. He couldn't very well just shine Harry on. He needed to stand up and be a man. Admit to Harry that Harry himself was his type.

"I don't know what me type is," he said instead, being obstinate and a chicken at the same time.

"And you say _I'm_ exasperatin!'" Harry . . . Harry was blowing up, losing his cool. This was a sight to behold. One that Louis imagined very rarely occurred. "Damn!" Harry emphasized, flopping down in the recliner, making a statement there too. He'd never sat in the recliner that Louis could recall. And certainly not when Louis was on the couch.

"Why are you sat there?" asked Louis, giving Harry a replica of one of his own innocent looks.

Now Harry was livid. "You're a royal pain in the arse!" With that, Harry left. He went to the kitchen and right back out to the garage. Louis heard the garage door opening and then the sound of the Rover's engine turning over. When the garage door closed, Louis sighed and sprawled out on the couch, completely deflated. When would all of this end?

Harry didn't know where he wanted to go, so he gravitated to the place he knew best. The dog park. He wanted relative darkness, so when he saw the dog park lights on, he was taken aback for a moment. He looked at his phone. It was a little after ten. He'd had no idea the dog park was open at night. But then, he'd never read the small sign with the park hours posted in front.

He retired to the park beside the dog park. That same park where they'd fought the members of Clockwork. He got his wish, as it was a lot dimmer here than the actual dog park. Not completely dark, but dark enough to give him some feeling of seclusion and privacy.

He removed his sportscoat and sat down on it in the grass, knowing he'd be dry cleaning it anyway. With his arms clasped around his bent knees, he watched the people and their dogs on the other side of the fence fifty feet away.

Brooke was trying to train her Pomeranian to stop barking, but by now it was a firm habit. He was five years old, and wasn't going to stop without a fight. So she let him off the leash, and he soon found a dog that he liked, and they began to play. Well, at least he had stopped barking for the moment. They chased each other, and the owner, a middle-aged woman, was pleased that her dog had another to play with. Brooke, feeling eyes on her, glanced over at the other park. She squinted and looked again. The light was low over there, but she could make out a dark form, realizing it was a person. It didn't take long to discover it was Harry. How could you miss him with that gorgeous long dark hair and long, slender form? What was he doing out there at this time of night, and without Louis?

"Um, seeing as our dogs get along so well, would you mind if I left Peanut with you for a few minutes while I go talk to someone?" she asked the owner of the other dog. The woman smiled. "Oh, I don't mind at all! Scooter needs the exercise your dog is providing!" she laughed.

"Thanks a million. I won't be long," and Brooke left the park, walking over to Harry. Peanut hadn't even noticed her departure.

She walked up and sat down next to Harry. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. After looking at her briefly, he resumed looking straight ahead again. Yep, something was wrong.

"Hey you look so smokin' tonight!" Brooke exclaimed, referring to how he was dressed.

Harry looked down at his clothes. He hadn't even taken the time to change.

"Oh, yeah. Me and Lou went out to dinner and a club," he explained, rather listlessly, as if he was feeling down.

"What happened? You and Louis have a fight?"

Harry snapped his head toward her. "How'd you know?"

"Well, you're here at the dog park at ten at night, sitting on the ground, dressed to the nines. That kind of tells me something ain't right," she laughed to try to put him at ease.

"Oh . . . yeah, I guess you're right."

"Wanna talk about it? Vent?"

"Ah, no. Um, that wouldn't be right."

"Look, I know you two are sweet on each other. I've seen how Louis is always checking you out too."

Harry gasped. "It's not like that at all!" he protested.

"Harry, it's kinda obvious—at least to me," Brooke countered.

Harry fidgeted. It wasn't as if Brooke was a close friend. He didn't know if she was a gossip either. He really didn't want to reveal much. But then, he had no one to talk to about this. Not a soul.

"Well, yeah. We had a bit of a tiff," he relented, not commenting on her statement about them being sweet on each other.

"What was it about?" Brooke had a way of edging in, and while she wasn't very subtle, she was comforting, and an ear that was willing to listen. There was something about her quiet presence that told him she could be trusted. His intuition was almost always right.

"Well . . . um, a guy . . . came onto me at the club, and . . ."

"Go on," she encouraged.

"Louis saw the guy gettin' too pushy, and he came up and rescued me."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, but, um, on the way home, he asked me if I found that guy attractive."

"And?"

"I said he wasn't me type. He asked me was me type_ was_, and I told him he was."

Ah . . . Brooke came to the realization that the two of them must still be in the flirting stage, and nothing intimate had happened.

"Well, that's good. So what then?"

"I asked him what his type was, and he ran. Ran into the house, that is. Avoided me question, after I'd answered his. Made me look like a fool."

Brooke considered this for a minute.

"Well, know what I think?"

Harry nodded, giving his permission.

"I think he's afraid of feeling something for you. Like, you know, he's running away from his feelings."

Harry cocked his head, contemplating this.

Just then, they both heard the familiar low, loping rumble of a car they'd heard many times. Louis' Mustang pulled up and parked behind Harry's Rover.

He exited the car, and even as dim as the lighting was, Harry could see by the way he was storming in their direction that he was consumed with anger.


	22. Chapter 22

Louis had been alarmed when Harry had left. He hadn't expected it. His sprawl on the couch only lasted about five minutes. Then he was backing the Mustang out of the garage. He might have spun his tires once out of the driveway—he wasn't sure.

It didn't take him but a few seconds to guess where Harry might have gone. Had _probably _gone. He pointed the Mustang in the direction of the dog park.

It was no surprise to see the Rover parked in front, at the curb. Getting out of the car, what did he see? Harry sitting there, _but he wasn't alone._ It took him about two more seconds to determine the golden brown haired girl was Brooke. What the fuck?

His jaw clenched, and he counted to ten before exiting the Mustang. He squared his shoulders and tried to muster up a shred of dignity that remained. Then he ambled up to them trying to look like he wasn't upset, although he was in a major huff. He didn't realize he really wasn't ambling- more like marching.

"What're you on to, Styles?" He realized before he even reached them that it was a chance meeting. Of course Harry hadn't made plans to meet her. He'd just been out to dinner and a bar with Louis, and they hadn't been home even five minutes before Harry had left. It was a stupid idea anyway. He knew damn well Harry didn't feel that way about Brooke. And now he felt bad for snapping at Harry.

"Just sat here, talkin' to Brooke," Harry said rather lethargically. Brooke's hazel eyes narrowed, focused on Louis, and they were blazing.

"Calm down, Louis!" she demanded. "He's not _on to_ anything," her voice carried a rather strong hint of sarcasm.

"Why'd you leave like that?" Louis' full attention was on Harry again as he maintained his cave man attitude. Brooke rolled her eyes.

"Because you were bein' an arse," Harry repeated the word he'd said earlier, and Louis wanted to giggle in the worst way. It sounded funny coming off Harry's lips. "I don't know why you're trippin.''

"And I suppose you told Brooke what happened?"

A loud_ pfft_ came from Brooke. Louis then knew for sure Harry had told her.

"Well I don't exactly have anyone _else_ to talk to!"

He was right. Louis reminded himself Harry had no family, and no friends except for himself. Of course he'd need to vent to someone. And what harm would it do to tell Brooke? From what Louis could tell, Brooke was on their side. She liked the idea of them together. So he had no right, none whatsoever, to be in the state he was.

"Sit down, Lou. Take a chill pill," advised Brooke, her voice firm. "And by the way, you're smokin' too! I was telling Harry a minute ago how good he looks all cleaned up. You two must've caused a stir tonight!"

Louis' heart warmed just a little at the fact that Brooke was trying to smooth things over between them. But he didn't sit down. He stood there awkwardly, preferring his superior position above them.

"If you won't sit down, why don't you two go home and talk about it? It's no one's business but the two of you . . . even though I might be a bit on the nosy side," she laughed.

She was so casual and light about it, and she succeeded in easing the tension in the air considerably.

But it didn't last long.

"I can't see why you can't just answer me question!" Harry was wound tight as he directed this to Louis. "You've done it twice now!"

"Really, Harry. Let's not advertise your question to the world!" even though Brooke was the only one who could hear them. Those in the dog park were all too far away and busy with their dogs.

"I have to get back into the dog park anyway," Brooke said, right on cue. "Someone is watching my dog for me. Next time I see you two, I want to see harmony! This sour attitude doesn't become you, Louis!" she pointed an accusing finger at him, touched Harry's shoulder in silent encouragement, and walked back toward the dog park.

Louis' lips were tight and Harry could see how withdrawn he was. He seemed to brush Harry off; more than that, he didn't acknowledge his presence at all now that Brooke was gone.

_What demons was he fighting? _Harry couldn't see the logic in Louis being so uptight and overreactive.

_It was what it was._ Trouble was, Louis didn't want to acknowledge it.

Why couldn't Louis have just answered him? Unless he was mortified that Harry had asked him about his sexuality by way of asking what type he preferred. Harry was starting to think that Louis was not happy to be gay. That he, in truth, wanted to be straight.

"Do you really care? Do you really care what people think?" asked Harry on a whim. "So what if someone might've called you a poof before. You have to be happy with yourself."

"Whoa, let's go home," this was getting too deep, too fast.

When they walked into the apartment, Harry, the king of persistence, turned on him once again.

"What're ya runnin' from, Lou?"

"I didn't run away to the park; you did."

"You know that's not what I mean. Talk about skirtin' 'round the issue," Harry quipped.

"Skirtin' 'round the issue? And what's the issue?"

"Now you've gotten as bad as me. My God, Tommo. You've caught me sidesteppin' disease!"

"Well, it comes in handy. Think I'll employ it when I need to. We're adoptin' each other's bad habits. Okay, so it's a bit of a laugh, know what I mean?"

"No. It's not funny. It's serious," pouted Harry. "Bein' gay is your lot in life. Accept it."

"Oh, that sounds real optimistic."

"I'm just remindin' you how_ pessimistic_ you are!"

Well, Louis couldn't argue with that. Harry was one-upping him at every turn.

_So . . . if you can't beat 'em . . . _

"You're gonna keep buggin' the shit outta me if I don't just say it. So here it is. You're me type. There! You're me fuckin' type! Are you happy now?"

This caught Harry completely unprepared. His mouth gaped a bit, and he was speechless. So Louis was not only gay, but Harry was the type he'd want to date?

Louis' stomach dropped to his feet. What the hell had he said?

"_B__U__T . . "._ Louis said loudly and with emphasis. "If you think you and me are gonna . . . gonna have a . . . _relationship,_ then you're dead ass wrong."

For the second time in half a minute, Harry had no power of speech. And the look on his face almost pushed Louis over the edge. Like a dog denied a bone, a horse denied a carrot, a baby denied something sweet.

"But . . . but we agreed that neither one of us wanted a one-off," Harry hated the whiny sound to his voice.

Louis chose to ignore that statement.

"Look, I gotta go get outta these clothes and into me usual." Louis headed for the bedroom, neither of them even having sat down on the couch yet.

Into his room he went, but he didn't get undressed. Instead his upper body slumped over his bed until he dropped down on it, not having the energy to change his clothes. He closed his eyes, turned onto his back, arm over his eyes, trying to blot out this entire evening, but especially the part where Harry had left. It had all been in vain. And, once again, it was all_ his_ fault.

He felt eyes on him just as surely as if he'd been physically touched. He opened them to see Harry standing at the side of his bed.

"We've gotta stop meetin' like this," he said lazily.

Harry emitted an odd squeak before a shrill laugh escaped, and he slapped his hand loudly over his mouth.

"Why do I feel like you and I are two very pitiful characters in a very bad comedy?"

"I dunno," Harry carelessly plopped himself in a sitting position on the edge of Louis' bed. Louis didn't object. "I guess . . . I guess we're usin' comedy, sarcasm and actin' silly to cover up . . . the real issue," ventured Harry.

Louis pulled a face. "You made me . . . say things I didn't want to say. Now I don't wanna talk about it anymore!"

"You mean, that I made you confess?"

"Shut up, Styles. You're treadin' a fine line here."

"I don't like that."

"What? Shut up? I apologize. Please don't bring the subject up again. Is that better?"

Louis got up off the bed and began to pull his shirt off. Harry was like a deer caught in the headlights. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. Louis' chest, his defined arms, his pec muscles. Inch by inch the naked flesh was revealed to him.

The man was a work of art. Harry had always thought so.

Now that the weather was getting hotter, Louis was getting tan quickly. He always looked darker than Harry, but walking dogs every day outside was darkening his skin even more. And when Louis occasionally went outside to lay in the sun, or wash his car without a shirt, or maybe a tank top, Harry would watch him surreptitiously, and lust after him.

He felt guilty about it, but the man was living art—there were no two ways about it. He often found himself fantasizing about licking all Louis' exposed skin, and then he felt ashamed because Louis had no idea where Harry's mind was.

Right now though, Louis stripped off to his boxer shorts, giving Harry a defiant glance as if he was proving a point. What was he trying to get across?

His boxer shorts were skin tight, and no matter which way Harry looked at him, it was all good. Better than good. His firm, unusually prominent, rounded bum from the rear, and the way the material defined his manly goods from the front. Harry didn't dare let his gaze go below Louis' waist when Louis was looking. He knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to lift his eyes again.

Every inch of him. Again, Harry couldn't stop thinking about kissing and licking every bit of exposed skin.

Louis had a half-grin on his face that Harry couldn't decipher. What was behind it? Louis pulled on a tee shirt and sweat bottoms. He seemed to caress his skin when he dressed. It was a little too slow, a little too calculated. Almost sensual. But he didn't give away a thing to Harry. He merely finished changing his clothes and then left the room.

There sat Harry, still on the edge of Louis' bed, practically drooling all over himself, hard as steel. He had yet to change his own clothes, but he wasn't good at multi-tasking, and his mind was firmly on the memory of Louis' body stripped to his underwear not three feet away from him.

Louis smirked to himself as he settled on the couch. Then the inner voice started in.

_You oughta be ashamed of yourself,_ _you bastard,_ the voice admonished silently. Harry had no family, and he'd been hurt in some way by a former man in his life. Louis should be treating him like family, because, admit it Tomlinson—Harry was like family to him. They'd only known each other for. . . how long now? Two months? But Louis had grown to care deeply for the curly haired Cheshire chap. So why was he acting so cold and callous toward him? Treating him like shit? Not answering his questions? And teasing him to boot? He finally knew why, and It came to him unexpectedly, out of left field.

_He was afraid of falling in love._ He had no idea how to love. He loved his family, of course. But that was a different kind of love. Harry scared the shit out of him. Harry was so perfect. Understanding, kind, and so compassionate. Something Louis reckoned he _wasn't._

He tried to tell himself he didn't want to hurt Harry, but the truth of the matter was he was fearful of what love might do to himself. Selfish, yeah. So, hard as it was to admit, maybe he was more afraid for himself than Harry. And that wasn't what love was about anyway. You should protect the other person—not be hung up on your own feelings. Maybe—no, _probably,_ he didn't deserve love.

He'd done a one-eighty. Louis had made the offering of dinner and the club to show Harry he cared. Now he was doing just the opposite. Trying to harden himself to Harry. No wonder Harry was perplexed! Louis was a master at mixed signals. If he was Harry, he'd hate himself! He realized how hot and cold he could be, and it all boiled down to fear. Harry had asked him what he was running from. Harry had likely hit the bullseye. He was pretty sure he was running from love.

Being weak, depending on someone, the fear of loss. Those things too. The fear that love wouldn't be returned. But no way was he going to reveal all his insecurities to Harry or anyone else. He'd always been self-reliant, and right now, he felt as if he'd be completely lost without Harry. That made him feel helpless and dependent. And that was why it was too dangerous to fall . . .

Harry was so restless that he didn't sleep through the night by any means. Every time he woke and looked at the clock it was only half an hour later. Even the teddy bear was ignored. He'd rather have Louis to cuddle.

Why was Louis so controversial? Why did he lead him on, make him feel special, and then turn all mean and nasty? Harry didn't need this in his life. He'd had a short-term boyfriend who had abused him, and now he felt Louis was verbally abusing him. Was he getting into a pattern of falling for abusive guys? Deep in his heart he knew it wasn't true. Louis wasn't abusive; he was just afraid of closeness. And who wasn't? This was just his way of dealing with it.

What was that song about love only being for the lucky and the strong? Louis must not have a very positive opinion of himself, although if that was the truth, he was sure good at fooling people. Harry could see the benefits in love—of course he could, but he could also only guess at the hurt that could result when you lost it. Crippling hurt. The kind of hurt he'd endured when his parents had died. Louis was all he had now, and truthfully, all he wanted. He was frightened too, but he'd already decided he wasn't going to pursue Louis anymore. This back and forth, cat and mouse game was old and worn out. He was done.

They'd gone to bed with hardly a goodnight. This didn't stop Louis' mind from recalling this evening over and over though.

_The way Harry ran his hand through his hair._ The way he ruffled up his hair and shook his head _just so._ Why did Louis find that so hot? He lay in bed remembering every move Harry had made tonight. How each move had beckoned to him, and he'd had to pretend he wasn't paying attention. Harry had the most direct way of looking at him. His gaze was so intense, as if he was absorbing his soul, and Louis felt like hiding at those times. He couldn't pull his eyes from those eyes that had turned forest green in the dim light at the restaurant. In the sunlight they were mint green. They were beautiful, the way they lightened and darkened depending on the lighting and his mood. And it wasn't just the color-sometimes Harry's eyes almost caused Louis to gasp in the presence of their expressiveness.

Louis had issues. Why couldn't he be the kind of person who could just live and let live? Hell, _Harry _should be the one with issues, if anyone was! Even after all he'd been through, he seemed to withstand whatever storm was in his path. He would plow right through it. And he even tolerated Louis and his shit attitude.

_You'd better get your shit together, Tomlinson. You could lose Harry in an instant. He'll get tired of your bullshit and bullying ways sooner or later and do a disappearing act, never to reappear. Is that really what you want? You'd better straighten out your sorry, sassy ass and demonstrate to him how you really feel about him._

But the right moment never came up. In the following weeks, Harry walked a new dog every day until he had worked his way up to big dogs. Finally, one day, he had graduated to the point to where the only one he hadn't yet walked was Higgins, the Great Dane. He wanted to appear confident and capable, hoping Louis would notice. Although he didn't get close to Louis anymore, he was feeling a lot better about himself. And he could tell Louis was aware of it.

They continued their old routine, even though both of them were tormented in the longing to touch each other. To sit close on the couch, to hug, and they both yearned for those haunting kisses to resume, each thinking he was the only one with these thoughts.

They were at the gym one evening, both using the spin machines, having completed their bench presses and other equipment. It wouldn't be long until they were done for the evening. A long, hot shower was on Louis' mind, and Harry was inclined to an even longer bubble bath.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder, so he turned his head. To the side opposite Louis and a little to the rear of Harry's spin bike stood a tall guy with short, straight, naturally sun-streaked blonde hair. He was six four, and in spectacular shape. Good looking, and he knew it. It took a couple of seconds for Harry to recognize him, as he hadn't seen him in a while. When he realized who it was, his heart stuttered.

_Troy._

The guy who had nearly raped him that night, three years ago. The guy who had been demanding, condescending and way over-possessive. Troy was busy scanning Harry's body, which was leaner and fitter than ever before.

"Hey, Harry. I see you're lookin' primo." Troy had always been this way—just sliding into conversation seamlessly, as if he saw Harry every day. Just assuming Harry would want to talk to him. Smooth . . . and deadly.

Louis was a few machines down from Harry. One was being used and another was out of order. So this meant he was a good eight to ten feet away, but since Troy had a rather booming voice, it was easy to hear him. Luckily Louis wasn't presently wearing his head phones, as he usually did.

"Serendipity!" Troy blasted. "Glad I ran into you."

Harry still hadn't said a word. He had stopped pedaling though, so that he was just sitting there, staring at Troy in disbelief and blatant mistrust.

Louis was there in a flash. He had a bad feeling about this guy. He wasn't going to miss this opportunity. It might make the difference in how Harry was responding to him—or rather, not responding. It was about time he took some responsibility and established some evidence that he truly cared, and wasn't the hard ass he pretended to be.

Troy being seven inches taller than Louis, glared down at him as Louis strode up.

"There a problem here?" Louis asked Troy, jabbing him with his startling blue eyes, and not showing an ounce of trepidation.

Troy smiled, but it was really more of a sardonic smirk. A calculating one, at that.

"Who are you? I'm talkin' to Harry here," Troy's voice dripped with resentment at Louis' intrusion.

"Hazza, who is he? Is he botherin' you?"

"Oooh, a nickname! Pretty cozy, are you two?" Troy's voice was starting to grate on Louis' nerves.

"None of your fuckin' business," snapped Louis.

"Lou, it's alright. I can handle this," Harry said without malice toward Louis, but not wanting Louis to have to fight again when it was his fault all these pesky people kept showing up in his life.

"It _does_ happen to be my business, dude," Troy looked around to be sure no one was listening.

"Is he your new boyfriend?" Troy inquired of Harry.

"No, he's me friend."

"I don't believe that," Troy sassed back at him.

"Doesn't matter anyway. He's with me, not you." This came from Louis, chock full of venom.

"Lou, let me handle it!" Harry was getting more and more upset and worried.

Louis walked back to his spin bike, because Harry evidently wanted to take care of this alone, but Louis didn't take his eyes off Troy for a second. He didn't start pedaling either, just in case he needed to defend Harry. This guy was big, and Louis had no way of knowing if he knew martial arts. If so, things could get hairy real fast.

Harry spoke up then. "Okay, Troy. You asked it so I'll answer honestly. Louis is me boyfriend."

Having heard what Harry said, Louis involuntarily took a took a deep inhalation, and let it out with a quiet hiss. Clever. Harry was making a statement. He had said it loud enough so that he knew Louis had heard him. Louis sensed somehow that Harry was not afraid of this guy, and wanted to set things straight, also sending a message to Louis while he was at it.

Harry didn't need to say another thing to Louis about this, whether in public or private. Louis knew he needed to take a stand and claim Harry. And not just to this Troy guy. But to Harry as well.

"Have we had enough for tonight?" Louis had walked back up to Harry. "If so, let's go home, yeah?" Once again, as he'd done a few weeks ago, Louis slipped his arm around Harry's waist, and Harry obediently slid down from the bike, allowing his body to press into Louis as he lowered himself.

Troy was beside himself. His face turned red and his hands clenched at his sides. He sputtered when he tried to form words.

"Harry . . . Harry, why have you avoided me? Moved out of that apartment without telling me?"

"Because I was gettin' away from you. You're the reason I moved out."

"Well, I think I need to reclaim you. I think your boyfriend and I should step outside."


	23. Chapter 23

Louis, Troy and Harry walked toward the door, Louis showing the most supreme confidence Harry had ever seen, his bouncy, signature arm swinging walk testament to that. The guy must outweigh him by at least fifty pounds. Harry felt sick to his stomach. Louis . . . fighting for him. _Again._ He couldn't stand it, not knowing what was going to happen. The butterflies in his stomach threatened to flutter up into his throat.

Troy's steps began to falter the slightest bit as they neared the door. He looked back at Harry, who was following them silently. Harry couldn't have put a name to the expression on Troy's face. He didn't look half as cocky as he'd looked moments before. He was actually turning deathly pale.

Louis was already in the parking lot, just standing there, legs braced apart, looking relaxed, although expectant and ready. He wore his "bad boy" expression, and Harry couldn't detect a trace of nervousness in him.

As Troy neared Louis, he ceased walking and came to a stop so quickly that he tipped forward, almost stumbling.

"Fuck it all!" Troy bellowed suddenly, the words exploding from his mouth. "If Harry's stupid enough not to want me, then you can have him! He's not worth my time! He doesn't put out anyway!" Troy thundered off on mile-long legs to his truck, getting in and driving off quickly, without another word.

Louis was aghast, having been primed for a fight, he and looked to Harry for answers.

Harry finally relaxed. Whew. That had been scary. "He's never been in a fight that I know of. I think he's scared of you," he grinned as he said the words to Louis.

"That huge oaf is scared of _me?"_

"Course he is! I told ya before. You look like a bad ass sometimes, and right now you look like you could kill."

"Yeah, kill _him," _Louis snarked. "The big pussy."

Harry laughed. Louis laughed. They went home.

"Wanna go play some pool this weekend?" asked Harry as they sat on the couch.

"Well, I guess we can do that. We can hit the gym on Thursday. When do you start singin' with the band?

"Next weekend, not this one. You gonna come?

"You and an army couldn't stop me!"

They went to a popular bar with pool tables, and after a few hours, Harry had successfully wiped the floor with Louis.

Louis was blown away, because he'd always been a halfway decent pool player.

"I should've known better when I didn't even pick up me cue during the first game. Should have clued me into the fact that I was up against a fuckin' pool shark!" he exclaimed.

Harry laughed. "I'm not generally athletic, so I learned to play pool instead, and I learned from one of the best."

Louis reached into his pocket for a twenty dollar bill that had been the bet. Harry pushed it away.

"Forget it. I knew I'd probably win, so spend it on some dinner tonight. I'm beat. Don't feel like cookin.'"

Twenty dollars didn't quite cover it, but Louis didn't mind. They stopped for pizza and cheesy garlic bread on the way home. For some odd reason, playing pool and having Harry whip his ass made Louis extra horny. He was _always_ horny for Harry, but this was way beyond the normal torture he underwent on a daily basis.

Now that their feelings had been aired, Louis was only too aware of how he'd spouted off about not wanting a relationship. That had been an all out lie. Before he could talk himself out of it, Louis said, "I want to apologize for bein' such an ass before, and sayin' I didn't want a relationship."

Louis held his breath awaiting Harry's response. Harry didn't respond for a while. He was mulling it over, so Louis let him do his thinking.

"Apology accepted," Harry said after a long pause. "I know you didn't mean it. At least I_ hoped_ you didn't mean it. Why can't we just go with the flow for now? Take a gamble on us, because happiness can be fleetin,' you know, and forgiveness can be given, and accepted easily without the burden of guilt. So stop frettin' about it."

How could it be that easy? Louis had lost the power of speech. Harry was right, and he'd said it so eloquently. It was just that he, himself, felt he didn't deserve it, and that Harry deserved more.

Even after this was said, they were shy about touching each other. It was kind of dumb, really, because what was stopping them? They had flirted constantly before, but now it was like they were both bashful to even tease each other.

It was easy, really. Just start flirting again, thought Louis. Nothing could be as difficult as that apology had been. So he sat on the couch and waited for Harry to sit next to him, but this time when Harry sat down, Louis dragged him close to his side, the way Harry used to sit.

"So who taught you to play pool like that?" asked Louis.

"Me dad. Taught me when I was young—only ten."

Louis experienced a sharp pinch of pain in his heart at Harry's words and the soft, slightly faraway look in his eyes as he remembered his father. Louis did his best impression of a cuddle then.

Harry, blushing furiously, acquiesced with no hesitation. Snuggling and hooking Louis' ankle with his own soon followed.

"Kissy? uttered Harry in the form of a question.

Now, that was music to Louis' ears.

Their lips met as If they'd never been apart. It was sweet, soft, slow. Just the way Louis had dreamed of it being. Just like last time. He wasn't going to rush this. Harry was too important. The guy who had hurt Harry had most certainly rushed and been rough. Not to mention the fact that he'd only been using Harry.

At the end of the drugging, mind-numbing kiss, Louis dared to ask Harry a question. He haltingly asked, "Was that guy . . . Troy . . . was he the one you had the bad experience with?" Louis always referred to it as the "bad experience" because he didn't know exactly what had happened.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he's the one."

"It occurred to me it might be him," Louis was visibly trying to keep his cool. The anger was now apparent on his face. Rather, the rage.

"If I'd known it was him inside the gym, I might have taken action right then, so I'm glad I didn't know. I wanted to be sure, because he could have just been some guy you'd known before that was just flirtin' with you."

"I should've told you the story. There's not much to tell, really. We'd been datin' a few weeks, and he drank one night, and came onto me in me apartment. We hadn't been . . . intimate yet. I thought he was gonna rape me, and I'm sure he would have, but I was lucky enough to get away and hide outside me apartment."

Louis took a deep, steadying breath, but it wasn't enough.

"Damn, Haz! I wish I'd known! I would've punched the holy hell outta him! God, I wish I'd known." Louis pressed his hands to the sides of his head in exasperation.

"Well, I don't. We probably would've been kicked outta the gym, and it doesn't matter anyway. He knows I'm with you now."

"Still, it pisses me off like you have no idea . . . I would've _loved_ to feel me punch breakin' his nose! He got away without payin' for what he did to you! Or almost did to you. I hate him!"

"It's okay Lou. Please calm down."

Louis inhaled deeply several times, trying to regain some control. "I'll just say that if I _ever_ see him again in public, he'll be sorry for a long time."

"I know it hurts, Lou. But remember, it's over now."

"I should be sayin' that to _you!"_

Harry's words nevertheless helped to soothe Louis' raw fury, but he just couldn't chase the despicable, unwanted image out of his mind of Troy trying to rape Harry.

"Does it still bother you a lot?" Louis asked, knowing he needed to redirect his thoughts however he could to try to at least partially erase the visions that kept popping up in his mind.

"Not as much as it used to." Harry was downplaying it, but Louis knew him too well. He was absolutely certain Harry had had nightmares, and had probably been afraid of men for quite a while.

"I felt safe at the gym, knowin' you were there," Harry disclosed.

On a hunch, Louis asked, "Was he your last boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Harry revealed, his eyes lowered.

"I thought as much. And he's the reason you're sometimes jumpy around me."

"I'm gettin' a lot better though!" Harry said proudly.

"You sure are. You even kiss me! But I did notice you flinched when I accidentally touched your bare skin."

Harry recalled exactly when that had happened.

"Yeah, I guess some residue remains."

"It won't take long before we scrape off the residue that the scum left behind."

Harry smiled at that.

It was Heaven, pure and simple. Louis felt himself sucked into it like quicksand. Harry, only slightly hanging back at first, even though he'd suggested the "kissy" himself, was soon participating fully. A little bit of coaxing, a little bit of honey, and Louis had him whimpering and clamoring.

"Whoa there, Styles. You've been through trauma before. Let's be unhurried."

Harry listened, and they settled into a long, almost languorous meeting of the lips and mouths. Louis suspected Harry was overeager because it had been so long for him, but also a portion of it might be that he was throwing himself into it before he lost his nerve. But Louis couldn't deny that he did feel the growing trust too.

If Louis could help it, he'd make sure Harry was not uncomfortable in any way. In fact, he let Harry lead the way once Harry had unwound himself adequately. It was best to let Harry call the shots. That way he wouldn't get out of his comfort zone.

Here Louis was, exposing everything he had tried and failed to hide. It had been so stupid. To get so sassy with Harry as a way of trying to cover up his true feelings.

Between kisses, Louis said things he'd never dreamed he'd say to anyone.

"I guess I kinda lost me way for a while. But it's you—it's been you all along. Ever since the grocery store."

The kissing continued, with no pressure. They didn't try to impress each other or put on airs. They just _were._

Later, taking a breather because they were both so hot and bothered, Harry volunteered some information.

"I've been checkin' me oil and water in the radiator every week," he boasted.

Louis' smile was blinding. "I'm right proud of you, Harold. I guess I raised you right," he added with a teasing smirk.

"You did a good job of sortin' me out," said Harry.

"Now you've gotta sort me out. I'm all fucked up."

"No you're not. Just a little misguided— a product of your own doin.'"

Harry was good at banter, and he was sharp. A lot sharper than Louis had given him credit for only weeks before.

"Wait a minute, let me overthink that," said Louis, bringing a loud laugh from Harry, who slapped his hand over his mouth.

"You do have a hell of a cackle on you when you let go," Louis chuckled.

"It just bursts outta me. But at least, when I do that, you know it's a genuine laugh."

"Really though, I'm fucked up from corporate finance, but I think you're a big help in gettin' me back to a semblance of normalcy."

"It must've been hell to work all those hours with hardly any sleep, even with the money bein' so good."

Louis nodded and stretched out, settling his legs over Harry's. "Mind?" he asked.

"Of course not! I love us touchin.'"

"And yeah, the money, or anythin' else really, wasn't worth all the work and the burn-out."

"I bet this is like a permanent holiday," Harry stroked Louis' lower legs as he talked.

"Oh yeah, it sure is. Walkin' dogs a few hours a day is even better than a holiday, after bein' a slave for a year. You have to have a certain kind of temperament to do that. Those guys are all workaholics, and they really don't have any other life at all."

Harry just shook his head slowly, not able to come close to imagining it.

"But then, I bet singin' with a band is like bein' on holiday too. Don't get me wrong—I know it's hard work, but it's work you really want to do. That makes it worth it, yeah?"

"Yeah, in some ways, it's more like play than work, and yeah, it's hard, but the rewards are massive. When you get a song just the way you want it, and you all agree on it, and your voice is co-operating, it's the dope, man."

Louis chuckled. Harry always entertained and amused him with his descriptions and explanations about his world of music. There was no doubt Harry was full of talent, and seeing him on the stage would be totally kickass.

Louis had not even been to bed with Harry, but he'd been with some scorching hot, handsome men, but had not connected at all with any of them. Not even close to the connection he had with Harry.

They fumbled around, Louis removing his legs from over Harry's lap, and pulled Harry to him again. The look on Harry's face was priceless. He looked enraptured, yet dubious at the same time. They'd have to start kissing more often, reflected Louis. Once they did, Harry would lose a lot of his timidity, and hopefully, all of it, sometime soon.

His manner right now was halting, tentative, nervous. Louis tried to remember how Harry had pursued him in the beginning, and how cute and unpracticed it had been. Then wanting to impress Louis with wearing a blazer to Starbuck's. That demonstrated to Louis that Harry would go the extra mile to make Louis happy, and he was still doing it.

Gradually, they joined in another kiss, and this time Louis offered a little bit of tongue. He was afraid it would remind Harry of Troy and his forceful ways, and, at first, Harry did indeed hang back and act diffident.

Louis broke the kiss. "Anythin' you don't like, tell me. You won't hurt me feelins.'"

Harry nodded, and Louis worked his way to barely stroking the side of Harry's tongue with his own. Harry's mouth was partially open, so that was proof enough that he was amenable to accepting things within reason. The trouble was, Louis didn't know how far this extended in Harry's mind. What was _not _within reason?

Louis had already decided he'd only attempt to kiss Harry tonight. Nothing more. But how passionate of a kiss should he solicit? If Harry's breathing was any indication, all systems were go. Once again, he sounded like a dragon.

It got hot and heavy real quick, but every time Louis grew unsure and eased up, Harry would lean into him, silently asking for more of Louis' lips. It became raw, with both of them making pleading noises, their tongues massaging, with Louis doing most of the pursuit. Harry was coming around, but he clearly wasn't accomplished at kissing.

Louis had to stop before his behavior became troublesome. It wouldn't have been with someone else, but Harry was a different kettle of fish. You couldn't compare him with anyone else. Louis wanted him with a desire that didn't seem to have an end.

He got up off the couch, dismayed and flustered and intoxicated with lust. Harry looked alarmed, his eyes turned up to Louis as he remained on the couch.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, quite out of breath, as was Louis.

"Nothin's wrong. That's the problem. Everythin' is right. So right that I don't trust meself not to go too far." There, he'd been honest.

Harry understood. "I'm feelin' like I never have before, Lou. If you feel anythin' like I do, then I can relate. You have to know that I'm not much experienced . . . "

"I know that, Haz. And that's why I'm bein' so cautious. That, and the fact that sommat happened to you before." No way was he going to mention Troy's name. It would be despicable to utter it at a time like this.

"I could kiss you all night, Harry. That, and nothin' else. You'd just have to keep me in line, yeah?"

"And how do you want me to do that?" Harry's expression was one of mild amusement. Louis liked that. He liked it very much. It showed that Harry's nerves weren't frayed as much as he was afraid they would be. He would never want to trigger him, after what that piece of shit had done to him.

"I think I can do that. But who'll keep _me_ in line?"

"Oh, that's a dangerous thing to say, Haz. If we _both _get out of line, they will be shenanigans goin' on in this apartment!"

The teasing and bantering was pleasurable for both of them, and helped them to let down a little and ease the tension.

Louis went to kiss Harry again, and this time Harry met him halfway. Louis' hands burrowed into Harry's hair at the nape of his neck, and he pressed his head ever closer, deepening the kiss, now that he knew Harry wouldn't object. He sucked Harry's lips, stroked his back a moment later, and felt Harry melt into him in a way that spoke much louder than words.

"Want to go into me bedroom and lie on the bed?" Then, quickly, "Oh, and if you don't want to, we'll stay here. I was just thinkin' comfort." Louis had taken a risk by suggesting this, hoping Harry wouldn't think he was trying to trick him. He didn't think that, at this point, Harry would think he was being underhanded, but was concerned about Harry having a flashback or something, and Louis would simply die if Harry lost any trust in him. It had taken months to get to this point, and losing ground would only hurt his chances of convincing Harry that he was one hundred percent serious about a relationship.

"Um . . . " Harry looked momentarily as if he was wavering. "If I wanna come back out here, like if I um . . . get uptight, would you understand?"

Louis' heart melted a little more every time Harry said something of that nature.

"Harry, c'mon, mate. You know me better than that by now, yeah? I'd never make you stay in there. You're runnin' this show."

"No I'm not. It's a_ joint_ venture," Harry said shyly.

"But your wish is me command," Louis countered. "And don't forget that."

"Let's go," Harry took Louis by the hand and led him to Louis' bedroom. Louis was so pleased and proud of Harry for being so brave.

But on the other hand, he sure hoped he had the will power to resist ravishing Harry until Harry was ready. He'd waited so damn long already . . .


	24. Chapter 24

Once in the bedroom, things took a comical turn. But the two of them were too shaky to acknowledge it, let alone appreciate it. They stood, awkward and cumbersome, beside the bed, shuffling their feet and acting like two teenagers uncomfortable about initiating intimacy.

"I've got character flaws," announced Louis, confusing and flustering Harry in the extreme.

Looking just a little rankled that Louis would say such a thing, he inquired, "And what might those be?"

"Compassion. It's a character flaw."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Compassion is a _character flaw?_ Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I'm feelin '. . . I'm feelin' compassion for you right now because you're uncomfortable with this—" Louis waved his arm, indicating the bed and the bedroom in general.

"What?"

"What I mean is . . . when you feel compassion, it gets in the way of clear thinkin.'"

"But it's not a character flaw! It's a sign that you're a good person!" argued Harry.

Louis considered this, then spoke again. "But I . . . don't want to get too soft. That's another way to put it, I guess. You make me soft."

"And that's bad?" Harry was completely bewildered.

"Well, it can be. In certain circumstances."

"I don't agree with you, Lou. You can still stand up for yourself, and be assertive, and still be soft."

"I don't know . . . "

"You don't ever want to be compassionate?" Harry looked gobsmacked.

"Well, I do, but it can cause weakness, as I just explained. I have trouble thinkin' clearly when I'm 'round you as it is." This was as close as he dared to get to telling Harry how much he meant to him.

"Lou, weakness and softness aren't the same."

"How so?"

How was Harry going to answer that? To Harry, softness was part of love. Weakness normally wasn't.

"Well, I know the feelin' 'cause I feel the same when I'm 'round you," Harry admitted. "Soft. But not weak."

Louis sat down on the bed, and encouraged Harry to also by grasping his upper arms and pulling him down. Harry showed a little bit of hesitation before he lowered himself to sit.

"Tell me how you can't think clearly. How do I cause that?"

Wow, Harry asked some loaded questions.

"Well . . . I'm too busy lookin' at you, studyin' you." Louis was proud of himself for being able to articulate that little bit.

"Well, at least I'm not alone," Harry was smiling, very content with the flow and progress of the conversation. It seemed he and Louis were starting to think along the same lines.

"You feel like that too?"

"Yeah. I love watchin' you do things like pick up the remote, or pour milk, or stretch, or . . . well, _everythin.'"_

"And now I don't feel like such a whack job, watchin' you like I'm a stalker or sommat."

They laughed together, both relieved that they fully understood each other's rather pleasant predicament.

After that, it was natural for them to begin to kiss—light little butterfly kisses that were teasing and stimulating, and left both panting for more.

"You had me right confused for a minute there," Harry confessed before the kissing became deeper.

"I'm glad I was finally able to explain, somewhat, how I felt. And that it was well received."

Kissing more intensely caused them to just naturally fall over until they were lying side by side on the bed, facing each other. Harry had begun to lay on his back, feeling bashful, when Louis had turned him onto his side so they could kiss freely.

Louis lips moved over his so expertly that it made Harry feel like an amateur. A total greenhorn. Louis' lips and tongue caressed his mouth, sliding back and forth smoothly.

The first time Harry heard Louis groan, he thought something was wrong. But when he realized it was the kissing that was affecting Louis, Harry knew it was sexual excitement. He'd heard guys grunt before, but nothing like this. The rutting kind of grunt couldn't hold a candle to this long, drawn-out, vulnerable sound, and it made Harry feel desired as he never had before.

As the kiss went on and on, Louis moved his body right up against Harry's, and each felt the other's hard cock through their pants. Louis hadn't meant to take things this far, but fuck, it felt so good. Harry's gasp of shock against his mouth made a wonderful thing even better.

Louis wondered if he'd put Harry off, but Harry stayed right where he was, and, eventually he began to moan too. When Harry pressed his pelvis against Louis' own, there was no mistaking his message that it felt every bit as good to him.

The arousal meter had pegged, and Louis moved his hips into Harry's. Just a gentle barely-there rocking motion. The slight amount of friction caused Harry to instinctively begin to mimic Louis' actions. Before even a minute ticked by, they were clutching each other, trying to get as close as possible, hips dragging against willing opposition that was so natural and sweet that there was no word for it.

Louis pulled air into his lungs with exertion, and he drifted in and out of a sort of fantasy-come-true.

It was already too late.

He. Was. Ruined.

This raw, blinding desire would surely be the death of him.

He knew he had to put a halt to this.

"I don't trust meself," he said honestly, and without hesitation. It was time for complete honesty. He'd fallen deep into this abyss, and there was no way out now.

"Wanna talk about it?" Now it was Harry's turn to suggest a discussion.

"I want you too much," Louis disclosed.

"Well . . . " Harry's eyes were glazed from all the lust. "What would you do if you . . . let yourself go?"

Louis chuckled, even though he wanted to scream in frustration instead.

"Rip your clothes off, kiss you all over."

Harry blushed crimson.

"Well, you asked, and I answered."

"I . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say a word, Haz. Just stay here next to me. Sleep with me tonight, here, in me bed."

"Will you be alright if we do that?"

"Yes, I'll be alright. I'll be sorely tempted, but I'll manage."

Harry smiled, and his beauty once again stole Louis' breath.

That was when Louis had to start kissing him again. He _had_ to. There was no other option when Harry got adorable like that.

And that is just what they did—spent the night in Louis' bed together. Louis lay behind Harry, holding him, and Harry snuggled right back into him. Of course, this made Louis' erection throb even more than it was already, but what could he do?

"Sorry," said Louis, pulling the lower half of his body slightly backward.

"No, no. I love it." Louis highly doubted Harry would have said that had the lights been on. But the darkness seemed to infuse courage into the curly man, encouraging him to reveal things he probably would never utter under a lit light bulb.

"Maybe we should start talkin' in the dark," Louis said slyly. "You're bolder."

Harry agreed. "And you're different too. Not just in the dark, but in general. You used to withdraw from me—well, except for sittin' on the couch."

"Haz, I haven't ever shown affection to anyone except me family. I really don't know how to." Louis felt like he was spilling his guts and putting everything out there. And it made him feel terribly vulnerable.

"Really? Never showed affection with anyone you dated? I know you said you were . . . animalistic," Harry paused. "But never kissed and cuddled with anyone?"

"Nope."

Harry was compelled to find out more after Louis' admission.

"But, _never?"_

"I never cared enough."

"And you . . . you care enough . . . about me, to kiss and cuddle me?" Harry's voice had gotten a little hoarse.

Louis was silent, and Harry patiently waited for the few seconds it took him to answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I care enough about you, Hazza."

Harry took a deep breath, and Louis could feel his chest expanding where he held him around his middle.

"That's really nice," Harry didn't know what else to say, so that would have to do.

"And you," Louis began. "What about you? Did you kiss and cuddle anyone?" Louis was almost afraid to hear the answer. He seriously questioned himself on why he had even asked it. He might not want to hear the reply.

"Oh, kissed. But It was rough, unfeeling, not loving. And never cuddled."

"No gentle kisses?" Louis admonished himself inwardly once again, wondering if he wasn't just asking for trouble.

"No. I didn't enjoy it at all. I wanted it over with."

"Then why did you allow a kiss to begin with?"

"I felt it was required," Harry sounded ashamed. "But kissin' you . . . kissin' you is like I've never been kissed before. In a good way, of course. In a_ great_ way."

Well, that was a more than satisfactory answer as far as Louis was concerned. His brand of kisses were a first for Harry, and Harry actually liked them. That was all he needed to hear.

"You've made me happy," Louis confessed in a voice so hushed that Harry barely heard it.

"With me answer, or in general?" Harry sounded so innocent and fragile in the dark.

"Both, Harry. Both."

A cascade of emotions rushed through Harry. It would be a dream come true for Louis to feel for him as he felt for Louis. After being abused in the past, he was afraid to believe that Louis just might want him to stick around. For longer than a few months. But he was getting ahead of himself. It was best not to get too hopeful. Louis was moody, and maybe he was just in a loving mood. Although, lately Louis' moods seemed to have stabilized. He rarely flew off the handle anymore, and even if he did, it was over just as quickly as it started. And did Harry dare to think it was because of him? Or was that being presumptuous?

They kissed a little more, but Louis was a little aloof, and Harry understood why. The Donny man was trying desperately to keep his desire in check. Louis had explained earlier that he was having trouble governing himself.

Just being able to sleep in the same bed with Louis all night was a better outcome than Harry ever would have expected. So he didn't question anything. He just stayed quiet, and after an hour or so of occasional random remarks in the dark, they fell asleep with Louis being the big spoon and Harry being the little spoon.

The morning brought an enormous smile to Harry's face when he realized it hadn't been a fantastic dream, and that Louis really was really holding him. Optimism flooded him, and for the first time, he wondered seriously if this relationship might hold a flicker of hope. Hope for the future.

Louis was warm, and it spread through Harry. All the way from the back of his neck where Louis' face rested, down to their ankles, classically entwined. The morning was chilly, but you could just tell that much warmer weather was on the way. Harry loved spring and summer, and as he lay there, Louis' arms embracing him, his eyes went to the window, and he saw snap dragons outside the apartment blooming in shades of red, pink and yellow. Funny he hadn't noticed that before. Maybe it had something to do with all the happiness that had stepped into his life in the form of one handsome Louis Tomlinson.

Louis covered his mouth with the hand that had been draped over Harry when an errant yawn caught him by surprise. He knew Harry was awake. He could feel it—the vibrancy that radiated off his roommate.

"Mornin,' beautiful. You walkin' Higgins today?" Louis asked gently. He raised up on his elbow so he could see Harry's face.

Harry didn't so much as wince. Higgins was now just over a year old, and weighed 150 pounds, and still had just as much energy. Great Danes matured slowly mentally, but quickly in stature.

"The Great Dane? Sure. You think I'm ready Tommo?" Harry turned onto his back to look up at Louis. He was secretly thrilled that Louis had called him beautiful, but he didn't let on. His smile gave him away, however.

"You that happy to walk that dog?" asked Louis.

"Well, it'll be a fun challenge," said Harry, deftly avoiding telling Louis what he was _really _smiling about.

"Gosh, I hate getting' outta bed, but we have an hour to get ready, eat breakfast, and collect our mornin' walkees."

Harry hoped Louis hated getting out of bed for the same reason he himself did. Having to leave each other's warmth was almost unbearable.

After showers and wonderful cheese omelettes, they gathered their charges. Chester the Pointer, George the Pug, Toasty the Doxie and Higgins the Great Dane. Louis handed Harry Higgins' leash, and he himself took the other three. He figured one dog was enough for Harry—especially if it was Higgins.

Hanging onto the leash with Higgins jumping up and down, clearing at least a foot between his paws and the pavement every time, Harry was laughing and smiling, and Louis didn't detect a single nervous indication in him. God, he was proud of Harry! Louis trusted him completely with the dog. Harry was cured. Completely. And that brought Louis a lot of joy.

Harry handled the leash expertly. He'd paid a lot of attention to how Louis managed the dogs, and knew just what to do. And besides, he had Louis right there beside him, should he run into trouble.

Going into the dog park, they saw Brooke with Peanut, her Pomeranian, but for once, the dog wasn't barking. And they soon saw why. Brooke was with a guy, and Peanut was looking up at him adoringly.

Louis and Harry exchanged a mystified look as they approached Brooke.

"Louis! Harry! Hi! I'm glad we ran into each other. I want you to meet my boyfriend!" she was as bubbly as they'd ever seen her. "Aaron! Here's Louis and Harry! The guys I was telling you about!" she said excitedly.

_I wonder if she told him we're gay,_ Louis was thinking. He'd known that_ she'd_ known about them for a while now. He could feel it. She had x-ray eyes, and she used them to scan their brains. He just knew it.

Aaron was a genuinely nice guy. At least it seemed like it. And he seemed to adore Peanut as much as Peanut adored him.

"Guys, this is Aaron!" Brooke said proudly. He was tall, thin and very pleasant looking, if not overtly handsome. He shook their hands, then reached inside his pocket and produced a tiny slice of hot dog. As soon as Peanut even thought about barking, he offered the hot dog slice. Louis could see how he was conditioning the dog that he might get a treat if he didn't bark. Pretty clever.

"Eventually, I hope to get him in the habit of not barking at all, without the treats," explained Aaron shyly. "Of course, I'll still give him the occasional treat, but he won't be expecting them, and will have forgotten about barking. I hope it works."

"Looks like you're doin' a great job so far," offered Harry.

Louis knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but he seemed to have no control over it. Even though he and Harry hadn't made love yet, they had slept in the same bed together last night, and he was pretty sure he had that special "glow" someone gets when they're infatuated with someone.

As if on cue, Brooke said, "Hey Louis, are you pregnant or something?"

Harry and Louis both hooted with laughter, but with surprisingly little embarrassment, which was good.

"You have that glow and the contented look a pregnant woman gets," she added.

Well now, Louis knew for sure their secret was out. He wasn't upset with Brooke, but he wondered why she'd said such a jarring, although funny, thing in front of Aaron. A moment later, he knew why. Aaron and Brooke shared a knowing glance. Yep, she'd told Aaron they were gay. Or perhaps she'd just told Aaron about them in general, and Aaron had come to his own conclusion. Didn't matter, either way.

Louis wondered how an outgoing girl like Brooke had ended up with a rather bashful guy like Aaron, but they seemed happy enough. In any case, Louis and Harry were really happy for Brooke. She'd been turned down by both of them, and it was about time she found herself a man.

"Harry and Louis are roommates," said Brooke. She batted her eyelashes at them, teasing them, letting them know that she knew what was up. But she made sure Aaron wasn't looking when she did it. Did Aaron know, or didn't he?

Harry and Louis couldn't resist smiling back at her, essentially admitting, without words, that they were indeed sweet on each other.

Harry was stunned. He never thought he'd see the day that Louis would admit—although silently, that he was gay. It made him feel so special to know he was the one Louis fancied, and didn't seem ashamed of it.

"Hey, we're having a barbeque on Saturday. You guys wanna come?" Brooke asked. "It'll be around six, so you'll be done walking dogs by then, won't you?"

Harry and Louis looked at each other. Harry's face lit up, and Louis knew he wanted to go. Actually, it did sound good. They hadn't been to any events together, as a couple. Maybe this was a way to start, although it was best to lay low and not let on. Not just yet.

"Sure!" said Louis. "We'll be there. What should we bring?"

"Just yourselves. We have loads of people bringing food already."

"Drinks then?" asked Harry.

"There's going to be tons of beer and soft drinks."

"Oh, okay. Can I get your address?"

"I'll text It to you tonight. Here, put your number in my phone." Brooke handed him her phone. Good thing she hadn't mentioned the fact that she'd given him her number on a piece of paper and asked him to call her. Louis would have had to admit her number wasn't in his phone. And how would he explain that?

Louis punched his number in her phone, and she told him approximately where she lived.

"That's cool!" said Harry on the way to take the dogs back to their owners. "We can walk there from our apartment! It's less than a mile. And in case we drink, we won't be driving."

"Yeah. I wonder how many people will be there?" Louis was thinking ahead, butterflies already kicking up in his abdomen.

"I don't know but . . . are we going . . . as a couple?"

How to explain this without hurting Harry's feelings? This was a little too real for Louis to handle at the moment. Going as a couple. He couldn't imagine that. Sure, he was head over heels for Harry, but he'd never come out to anyone but his immediate family before. This made him nervous. What if there were homophobes at the party?

"I don't know," he answered Harry honestly. "I have no experience with that."

"I don't either," admitted Harry. "We can just play it by ear. No pressure. Don't worry. I won't be all over you like a clingin' vine." Harry smiled to reassure him, and Louis felt almost like he could indeed go as boyfriends. But not quite . . .

On Saturday, Louis was quaking on the way to the barbeque. His hands slipped around on the steering wheel because they were so clammy. He hoped Harry didn't notice. When they walked around to Brooke's boyfriend's backyard, as Brooke had told them to do, Louis' legs were almost numb. He was more uptight than he'd been in a very long time.

People. There were people _everywhere._ He'd expected maybe a dozen people, maybe a little more, but not dozens upon dozens. And they didn't know a soul. Just Brooke and Aaron.

Everyone was milling around, and they looked like a thousand faceless ants to Louis. His self-command seemed to be in serious peril.

Right then, Brooke saw them and ran up.

"Oh good! You're here! Hey everyone, this is Louis and Harry!"

It seemed like every eye in that backyard was tunneling holes into them. They were dart boards for everyone's sharp-as-tacks eyes. Well, Brooke had intimated they were a handsome couple before, and Louis knew that people stared at Harry as a matter of course. Still . . . he felt like a freak right now. He felt like people were tearing apart and analyzing every stitch of clothing, everything he did, every move he made.

Then, even though Harry had promised earlier not to be a clinging vine, Louis got a sudden chill and he gasped silently, breaking out anew into an ice cold sweat. He remembered how affectionate Harry got when he drank alcohol. Oh God. He could see it now. Harry having a couple of drinks, forgetting to be discreet, then trying to hold his hand, flirting shamelessly with him, hugging him and asking for a "kissy," And not being quiet about it. Now he was absolutely terrified . . .


	25. Chapter 25

All those prying eyes. The staring continued. Louis felt embarrassment and great discomfort, and trying to shake it off wasn't working. He glanced at Harry. Harry obviously didn't feel all those orbs penetrating his being. Either that or he was oblivious, which seemed to be an interesting talent of his. In any case, his inner social butterfly was emerging. He was lively as he talked with Brooke and Aaron. Looked as relaxed as if he was in his own living room bantering with Louis.

Louis envied him. How did he do it? Wasn't he afraid of what these people might think? Or his mental approach to it could be he just plain didn't care, and Louis surmised that must be it. Harry was the type who would want to be accepted exactly like he was. And that seemed to appeal to people, as more and more of the crowd gravitated toward him. Men and women alike were enchanted with him, apparently even if they suspected he was gay.

_Just like I am, _thought Louis. People tried to include Louis in the conversation, but he had a hard time concentrating, tripping all over his own tongue. He'd never been in this situation before. Gay bars, yes. But in a big group of the general population? No. People who weren't also gay? Never in his current life.

Harry laid a tender-light hand on Louis' forearm for the briefest second.

"Havin' a hard time?" he asked Louis inconspicuously as he spoke quietly into his ear.

Louis shrugged. "A little, yeah."

"Wanna leave?"

Harry was clearly having a good time, yet he would willingly leave in an instant if Louis asked him to. Could you possibly ask for a better friend? Louis' heart pulsed with soft warmth.

"No . . . I need to face this and not be afraid."

Harry nodded and smiled full-on, dimples promising he'd be there, and wouldn't leave Louis' side.

"Come on, guys!" Brooke cried, directing her attention to Louis and Harry. "Grab a paper plate and get over there for a burger or a hot dog! We have potato salad, chips, dip, deviled eggs too. Just help yourselves!" She ushered them to the grill.

The guy cooking over it asked what they wanted. They both got a burger, then grabbed onions, cheese, relish and ketchup for their condiments, and found two chairs that they pulled together. Not too close though-Louis didn't want them to look like lovebirds until they were accepted by these people. And that wouldn't be happening tonight, thank God. Accepted as friends of Brooke maybe, but as a gay couple? Totally different story.

Harry was devouring his burger and stuffing chips into his mouth, while Louis just nibbled at his. He was afraid of being mortified. Brooke might have a slip of the tongue at any time, and even Harry might. Not on purpose, but Harry sometimes didn't think before he spoke.

The people were all very friendly and included Louis and Harry as much as they could, all sitting in chairs, forming an enormous circle, and some sitting at a picnic table. Louis regretted that he and Harry hadn't brought their own canvas chairs. There were enough chairs for everyone, although just barely.

Brooke and Aaron must have a lot of friends, reflected Louis. There were mostly young people, but they seemed to range in age anywhere from their twenties to their fifties. Some might be family, too. Louis wasn't sure.

Aaron's house was fairly small and cozy looking, modest with a mild country flair and a wooden rear patio, his back yard huge-perfect for having barbeques. It made Louis feel a pang of wistfulness. It was domestic and inviting. He'd like to have a house like it someday. Somewhere to call home. But right now, Louis was dreading the questions, and no sooner did he think about it than here they came.

"So how long have you lived in California, Louis?" Someone asked. "Brooke said you came over from England. It's obvious with your accent, but Harry also has an accent. Were you friends in England?" This was from a young man about Louis and Harry's age. His girlfriend sat pertly by his side.

Louis told them about coming over from England, being in finance, and eventually deciding he'd rather walk dogs. This brought quite a look of shock from the young man, who appeared to be temporarily stunned—not unexpected. Few people understood the massive pressure of the corporate world and couldn't imagine giving up the money. Louis looked up, and it seemed everyone was listening to his story. His cheeks colored, and he went silent.

Harry though, good ole' Harry, filled in the expectant silence with his own story about coming to the US, although it wasn't nearly as interesting as Louis' story. Nonetheless, people were still fascinated, their eyes never leaving Harry's face as he was now talking about Louis' Mustang, and how fast it was. Louis wished he'd skipped that part, because now everyone's eyes shifted back to him.

He had been introduced to so many people that he couldn't remember a single name now if his life had depended on it. People were addressing him by name, but he couldn't pull even one of their names out of his hat. He knew that not _every _single person there was staring at himself and Harry, but it sure felt like it.

He'd had to tolerate large groups of people when he'd been in finance- but that was his other life. It was over now. He felt closed in, trapped. Harry flitted over to one of the two kegs on the other side of the lawn and got himself and Louis a paper cup of beer. He seemed to know just what Louis needed.

Thank God! Louis was so glad to have something to do with his hands besides smoking now that he was finished eating. Harry had dumped both their empty plates and plastic forks into the trash. He was waiting on Louis, literally, and it wasn't lost on the other people.

Louis took a deep gulp of his beer, glad to get alcohol into his system. He was hoping it would facilitate some serenity, which he badly needed. Harry happily sipped his beer, those mesmerizing green eyes alight with enjoyment. Well, Louis would have to get Harry out among people a little more often, he reckoned, seeing as he was in his element.

Louis' cup was empty in about two minutes, so Harry bounced off to get him another. Harry going for beer, chips or anything else caused women to sidle up to him, making a random comment just to get to talk to him. Louis saw it all, and it was so transparent. His boy generated a lot of attention with his looks and easy, engaging demeanor. Louis felt no jealousy when Harry talked to others. Instead he felt pride and his "fond" shifted into high gear.

The drinks just kept coming—there was a continuous flow. Harry filled his paper cup every time it neared three-quarters empty. Louis, who had been practically chain smoking was finally slowing down on the nicotine. Where at first it was a struggle to mingle with others, Louis was finding it was gradually becoming a breeze now. Even Harry's knock-knock jokes didn't hinder his good—and getting better all the time, mood.

The top of his head felt light, and the buzz was more than welcome. He began to smile, and even to joke a little.

Harry was brushing up against him whenever he found an opportunity, such as handing a cup to someone. Harry's leg also sporadically pressed against his briefly. Just enough to cause Louis to take notice, and want more. Flirtatious Harry.

Wait, he _couldn't _want more touching from Harry here, with all these people. But as more time passed, others' opinions mattered less and less. He began to touch Harry back.

At first, he just laid a comforting, steady hand on Harry's back when asking him a question. As he grew more and more relaxed, he found himself leaning into Harry just the slightest bit, stealthily inching his chair just a little closer to Harry's chair. Then again . . . and again. An inch at a time. Before he knew it, his chair was scarcely more than an inch away from Harry's.

That was when Harry realized he must have refilled Louis' cup a few too many times. In fact, he couldn't even remember how many times he'd refilled it. Uh-oh. In an effort to help Louis with his anxiety, he'd gotten a little carried away. Harry had never seen Louis drunk before, but judging by the languid smile Louis was giving him, it might not be too far off. While not drunk, Louis was definitely mellow.

So Harry set off to gather a few cookies and, bless her heart, Brooke had a coffee machine brewing and he grabbed a cup for Louis. That might help to ward off too much of a buzz. Louis didn't complain as Harry handed him two cookies on a plate and a steaming cup of coffee.

Louis, however, was far more interested in Harry than anything else. The fascination was never ending. Suddenly, and to his horror, Louis felt flushed and thoroughly horny. Just having Harry sitting there next to him was driving him to distraction. He wanted to touch him; just touch him. As he watched the animated way Harry interacted with others, the feeling only intensified. Slip his arms around his waist, kiss his neck, breathe and snuffle into his ear. _Anything _physical.

But he couldn't. About a thousand people—or that was how it seemed, were mingling, at least a third of them still presenting appreciative stares at Harry. Louis had the most incredible urge to claim him in front of everyone.

_Wait. Get a grip!_

He was on overload. Even though he knew Harry wouldn't object, he couldn't do those things. And _knowing _Harry wouldn't mind made it even harder to resist. He had to get out of here before he made a spectacle of himself.

"Gonna go out on the front lawn," he said to Harry, trying to look casual and nonchalant.

"Why?" Harry looked his usual caring, concerned self. Louis could tell Harry wanted to touch him, and that . . . well, that would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Louis would be all over him.

So, without another word, Louis walked back around the house to chill in the front yard, hoping that somehow this terribly aroused state he was in would somehow evaporate.

Harry followed, as Louis had known he would. There wasn't anyone in front, so they could talk privately.

"Haz, I'm in a bad way."

Harry's forehead wrinkled with concentration. "Feelin' poorly? I'll tell Brooke and Aaron we have to go home," began Harry.

"No! Not sick," Louis cleared his throat. "Rather, feelin' too good."

"Drunk?"

"Not that either, although I'm not exactly sober. But . . . desirous." Louis decided to use that word, as he knew Harry would realize right away what he meant. To be certain though, Louis added, "Like when you sing."

Harry's eyes got wide, understanding dawning on him, and he smiled coquettishly.

"Sounds good to me," Harry murmured, looking besotted.

"Don't do that, Haz. I'll do sommat that'll embarrass us both."

"Affection won't embarrass me."

Harry was right. It wouldn't. And of course Louis would never make an openly sexual move on Harry in front of people. So, according to Harry, there wasn't really a problem.

"Well then, I might get a little on the affectionate side," admitted Louis, gauging Harry's reaction.

"Sick! That turns me on. All those people wonderin' what's goin' on—if anythin' with us, and then you gettin' cozy . . . yeah, I like that."

There was Harry's wild side again, peeking out and longing to jump out into the open. Oh, Harry was gonna be a handful . . . someday.

"Sounds like you like an audience, you pervert," teased Louis.

"C'mon, Tommo. You have to admit you find it arousin' too, yeah?"

"Right, I guess I do. A little bit. But I reckon I'd be proper sorry about it tomorrow."

"Well you might. But I wouldn't. People can take us or leave us."

Harry's words of wisdom. Harry always made sense. And it was never complicated. He simply was Harry, and Harry didn't find shame in being who he was.

"Well, whatever we do, I gotta go have a wee, and _now,"_ Louis announced.

He went into the house and someone directed him to the restroom. While in there, he combed his hair, and looked into the mirror to see if he looked drunk. Actually, he didn't, thanks to all the drinking experience he'd had. He held his liquor well. His eyes weren't red or drowsy looking. He splashed some cold water on his face, in hopes it would tamp down his arousal.

Meanwhile, Brooke found Harry on the front lawn.

"Whatcha doin' out here, Harry? I seem to find you in the weirdest places," she giggled, half-crocked.

"Louis' havin' a . . . I mean, Louis' usin' the restroom," he replied.

"He looked uncomfortable to me—is that why he came out here?"

"Yeah. He wanted to talk privately for a minute." Harry realized his choice of words was a good one, as the word "private" stopped Brooke cold. She didn't want to overstep.

"By the way, while you're here, Brooke. I wanted to ask you sommat."

"Sure, shoot."

"Well, recently Louis said sommat that I didn't understand, what with his lingo and all."

"Okay, what was it?"

"He said . . . let me think . . . Oh yeah, that he didn't want to be bread crumbed, and he didn't want a slow fade."

Brooke's lips slowly lifted into a grin, and then a full smile.

"Is it good or bad?" Harry looked a little flustered.

"No worries, Harry. It's good. He doesn't want to be bread crumbed means he doesn't want someone to lead him on, and he doesn't want a slow fade means he doesn't want someone to, well, slowly fade out of his life."

Harry's head felt like it was in the clouds. Joy welled up in him.

"Really? Wow." Harry let it soak in, and he really liked the sound of it. Here Louis had said something momentous and he hadn't even acknowledged it. He'd been afraid it was something he wouldn't want to know the meaning of.

"Why didn't you ask him what it meant?" Brooke wanted to know.

"Well, I didn't want to look . . . uninformed," admitted Harry.

"Oh, you silly. But I suppose this is great news for you, right?"

"You bet it is!"

Right then, Louis exited the front door, and Brooke smoothly changed subjects.

"Yeah, I'm glad so many people showed up," she said sleekly to Harry as if Louis had caught them in casual mid-conversation.

"It's a great barbeque. Thanks for invitin' us," responded Harry.

"Hi Brooke. Well, Harry. Are we going out back again?" asked Louis.

"Sure." Harry's eyes sparkled as he anticipated what might happen in the next few hours. He was down for it. Whatever Louis wanted, because Louis was where his world began and ended.

Brooke kept her smile to herself as she followed them back to the backyard. She could tell something was up, but it was no doubt something good. Louis had said that to Harry! How romantic!

Harry and Louis were hardly taking their eyes off each other. Harry stumbled almost to his knees because he wasn't watching where he was going, and Louis had to boost him upright again. Brooke had to plaster her hand over her mouth so they wouldn't hear her giggles. Harry might be drop dead gorgeous, but he was also clumsy, in addition to being a comedian without even trying to be. His knock-knock jokes were pitiful, yet people still laughed. His charm seemed to sprinkle everything with magic.

This passion . . . this passion Louis had for Harry was not to be eschewed. It gnawed at him, trying to eat him alive. He decided to just let his aroused state be, hoping it would burn out. But he only became more aroused . . .

Every movement from Harry made his groin tighten ever more. He was still drinking coffee, and wasn't quite as buzzed, but still felt a little high, and the sexual excitement never even paused—it just kept climbing. As he and Harry sat next to each other, Louis found himself continuing to touch Harry every chance he got. Light, fleeting touches, because that was all he felt he could get away with. Harry ate it up, but all those curious eyes . . .

It was never enough though. Those little touches did almost nothing to ease his libido. He wanted more, and more, and more.

The evening was quite warm, and Brooke announced there was ice cream in the house, so people wandered in and out of the sliding glass door, bringing out either bowls or cones. Seeing Harry eat an ice cream cone was almost unendurable for Louis. How could this get any worse? Or any better, depending on how you looked at it.

Harry peered at him out of the corner of his eye coyly. He knew exactly what he was doing. Seeing the tip of Harry's wet, ice cream-covered tongue, and Louis' cock stood up and took notice. As if it had ever really deflated much at all tonight. He was wearing fairly snug pants and he felt like the zipper was surely going to break from the pressure from within.

"Want some ice cream?" Harry asked in a blatantly flirtatious voice.

"Uh uh," was all Louis was able to mumble. He sat there stiffly, absolutely convinced Harry knew the kind of predicament he was in. He'd admitted it, after all, in the front of the house. Did Harry have no mercy at all?

When Harry finished crunching on the last of the cone, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and snaked his arm around Louis' shoulder. "Should we start like this?" he inquired with a rather wicked smile.

"Haz, if you only knew . . . if you only knew how I'm sufferin' right now," whined Louis.

"More affection, then?"

"Harry, you'd better knock it off! If you keep this up . . . I might lose control!"

This perked Harry's ears up. "Oh really? "What'll happen then?" To look at Harry you'd never guess how devilish he could be. Was the innocence a façade? Maybe partially?

Harry leaned over just a bit—he didn't have to lean far as their chairs were nearly smashed together, and kissed Louis' neck. Just a peck, and a lightning fast one, but it was practically guaranteed that at least _some _people here had seen it. Louis felt his face go scorching hot in embarrassment, but at the same time, he experienced an equally strong rush of desire. Harry's hot breath had whispered against his skin, and those moist lips . . . Even if not everyone in the yard had seen, Louis knew the news would spread like wildfire amongst all those people. Everyone there would know.

Almost immediately after, Louis felt, and then saw, someone's gaze. It was one of those accidents where someone's eyes catch yours. Or maybe it wasn't so much of an accident . . . He was an older man who was present with his wife, and he looked thoroughly disgusted. He whispered something to his wife, and his lips formed a sneer.

Meanwhile, oblivious Harry was marveling at the impossibly beautiful color of Louis' eyes. He locked his gaze with Louis,' and even though he knew he should terminate the gaze, it didn't seem physically possible. Louis looked away first, but was heedful of not looking at the older man. So he trained his gaze on the ground.

"Louis," said Harry quietly.

"Harry," returned Louis.

So, he was responding positively to Harry, even after that kiss on the neck! This was a strong incentive for Harry. Just how far did he dare to push it? There was one way he could think of to find out.

"Kissy?"


	26. Chapter 26

_Kissy? Really?_

_Now what to do? _

Harry sitting there, all demure and looking expectant. Louis didn't want to hurt him by rejecting his request, but no way in hell was he going to do it in front of a backyard full of people!

"Harry, you know I want to, but you must also know I can't do it right here. Later, at home?"

That mischievous expression played on Harry's face. "I can't wait," he said.

Great. That simple comment made Louis even more eager to get Harry alone.

Their exchange was hushed, and they weren't close enough to anyone else to be heard. And that is when the conversation began to lean toward sensuality. Two could play at this game.

"You'll like it, Haz," Louis voice almost literally caressed.

Harry awkwardly shifted in his chair, and Louis knew without a doubt that he was aroused.

"Will it be like last time?" Harry's voice was still teasing, but on the verge of timid as well.

"Yes, Harry. Even better. But you will be the one in charge. Don't forget that."

"I . . . I can almost feel it . . . already." Harry's voice had become quivery and he had to clasp his hands together, as they were trembling. Wow, Harry was becoming accomplished at really getting to him. Louis was really liking the shyness, mixed in with an attempt at boldness.

"What? My lips on yours?"

"Yeah . . . um, the last time keeps runnin' through me head. I can remember every detail."

"Oh, really? Is that so? Care to describe it?"

Harry shifted again, his hip bones rearranging themselves on his seat. He acted as if he'd bitten off more than he could chew. If they'd been talking about anything besides kissing—or sex for that matter, Louis knew just as surely as he knew his own name that he could outdo Harry. He'd developed the gift of gab, sarcasm and cheekiness years ago.

"Soft, sweet, and also . . . " Harry was actually describing it, something Louis would have bet he wouldn't have ventured into. But Harry was a surprise a minute.

"I'm listenin.'" Louis, despite his uncomfortable erection, was enjoying this game. He liked the way Harry was becoming more open with him. More outspoken, more self-assured.

"Passionate too. Really, Tommo. I didn't think you'd kiss like that."

Harry was trying to eclipse him. Or was he? Right now he was ahead, and by quite a margin.

"Like what? Be specific."

"Like . . . so undaunted, yet still makin' me feel safe."Harry struggled to express himself.

"Do you like the passion, or does it scare you?"

"Once I got used to it, I really, I mean _really,_ liked it," Harry's respiration was quicker.

The torture of having this conversation in full view of other people, and the others not having any hint of what they were talking about was exciting enough all by itself. Touching wasn't even necessary, although it would have been so tantalizing. Louis longed for them to be alone together to continue analzying their last kissing session.

"You know, um, I've never been that excited before," Harry confessed. Of course, this statement caused Louis to really squirm. He covered it up with pretending to try to get comfortable on the seat cushion. He was almost to the point of panting now. Yep, Harry was winning alright.

"How excited were_ you_?" asked Harry. He had to have known how it affected Louis. They had both been gasping for air. But he wanted to hear it, so . . .

"Same. You excite me way above and beyond anyone else I've ever been with," Louis said honestly. And then because he couldn't stand it anymore, Louis let his thoughts slip out.

"Wanna go some place where we can do that again?"

"Right now?" Harry's face was flushed and Louis could swear he saw his heart pounding under his shirt. He also saw his very hard, erect nipples. Thank God Harry hadn't worn an undershirt on this warm night. It seemed that Harry, like some women, had nipples that responded to sexual arousal without having to be touched.

It was so oddly erotic to be sitting there, looking for all the world like they were having an everyday conversation while relaxing at the barbeque, while really discussing what it was like to kiss each other passionately. It was intense.

They already had a mad friendship, but adding this to it was like being in lust with your best friend. And that was exactly what it was.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but just then Brooke loudly announced a game of horseshoe. She was an excellent hostess, encouraging everyone present to line up to throw the horseshoe. If anything, she was more lively and vivacious after drinking. Aaron seemed enamored with her, and Harry and Louis were both happy to see it.

Well, they couldn't sneak off just yet. Brooke was physically pulling people out of their seats, so Harry and Louis joined the others. It was fun, and Harry and Louis did quite well, although neither one of them won.

After the horseshoe contest, Brooke put some music on, and people began to dance. Of course, almost immediately a girl came over to ask Harry to dance. Apparently she hadn't seen him kiss Louis on the neck, thought Louis drearily.

"I can't really dance," Harry said apologetically. I can only slow dance," realizing his mistake, he looked at Louis helplessly as if to say, "I'm sorry. Let's just hope there aren't any slow songs."

Louis responded with an understanding look. He wasn't worried about a woman getting Harry away from him.

"Oh, come on!" She wasn't giving up. "At least try!"

Harry, being the passive, agreeable guy he was, allowed himself to be tugged out of his seat to the middle of the lawn where several other couples were already dancing. It was quite a treat to watch Harry try to dance. His arms and legs were all over the place, and he had no rhythm. But it was still endearing as hell. Louis had to give him extra points for effort.

"Nice one!" said Louis as Harry came back to their chairs.

"I'm glad you're not angry with me."

"Why would I be angry? Happy times! It was just a dance; didn't mean nothin.'"

The comment placated Harry, and his attention was clearly and completely back on Louis.

The girl didn't ask him to dance again after that. Probably because Harry was a goofy dancer, but at least it allowed him to stay with Louis, where he wanted most to be.

When, eventually, Aaron turned on a slow song so he could have a slow dance with Brooke, Harry looked at Louis longingly. Louis suddenly had visions of that homophobic man beating the hell out of him. He was probably an ex-Navy Seal or something. Yeah, that would be just Louis' luck.

"Oh, come on, Haz! Slow dancin' is almost as bad as kissin!'" objected Louis, hoping Harry would realize Louis meant _in front of people, _and wouldn't take too much offense. And he didn't. Louis imagined Harry would dance with him without batting an eye, but Louis believed that making such a strong statement this early on was a bit extra. He just wasn't that kind of guy. Now, if this was an all-gay, or openly gay-friendly party, he might have considered it. But he guessed he must be shallow because the thought of all the gossip and whispers creeped him out. And there was that older man too. He hated that he seemed to care too much about what others thought. It was funny—sometimes he didn't give a fuck what anyone thought, and other times—like tonight, he felt he was way too conformist.

Harry still hadn't answered his question about going somewhere private to kiss, so Louis let it drop without hurt feelings. Maybe Harry wasn't feeling as bold as he had earlier, and that was okay. Louis wasn't in any rush. Besides, it might be better to let their friendship grow and evolve as completely as possible before embarking on anything that had the potential to ruin it all. Not that he thought for a minute it would ruin what they had. At least he_ hoped_ not. He just needed to be sure they were both ready.

Sure, it might be just kissing, but to Louis at least, it meant something. And he hoped the same was true for Harry. Louis hadn't kissed many people before, and when he had, it had been only as a rough precursor to sex, just as Harry had described his own past experience. With Harry, it was special from the first moment their lips had touched. It was on a whole different level. It was in a league exclusively of its own. There had been real, and very deep, feelings that accompanied it. It had been extraordinary, and Louis cherished the memory.

Maybe they'd make more memories tonight, after the party. It certainly wasn't required, but kissing Harry and inviting him to stay in his bedroom again would be the perfect ending to a perfect day spent together.

They hadn't slept together since that one night, and Louis had sorely missed it. Someone had to speak up though, if it were to happen again, and neither one of them had. He supposed they were both too shy, but more importantly, he knew he, personally, was afraid of being turned down. So he assumed the same was true for Harry. Either that, or Harry didn't want to sleep with him again.

It wasn't too much later that Harry bashfully suggested they find a place to be alone. He didn't mention kissing, but Louis knew that was the purpose.

The thought was scintillating, and Louis couldn't wait to sweep Harry away from all these polite, but slightly meddlesome people. Louis insisted they not leave separately as they slipped around the side of the house to the front. He got angry with himself when he felt he should be discreet. He and Harry were grown men, and there was no law against it.

Out on the front lawn, they gravitated toward a dark corner. Louis had thought about walking to the dog park, but then they'd be gone too long, and he didn't want to be rude to Brooke, who had been nice enough to invite them. Staying away for fifteen or perhaps twenty minutes wasn't terribly out of line.

The "dark corner" was a very large old oak tree on a strip of city owned land just off the sidewalk, but not on someone's property. It was dark . . . oh so dark. Perfect for lovers looking for stolen kisses.

Harry green eyes were dilated, and Louis knew it wasn't just because of the dark. Excitement and anticipation were written all over his face. He was flushed too, his breaths coming rapidly. Louis knew he probably looked much the same. Why hide it? They both knew why they were here.

Louis moved Harry into the even deeper shadow of the giant oak, and when Harry met him toe to toe, it was a complete turn-on. Their lips came together without one word or look. Or rather, it was one continuous look, but they didn't need to speak. They were both so very hungry. Their eyes closed then, and the kiss was a non-stop loop of lick, nibble, suck. Louis couldn't get close enough to Harry. His body was insistent and it wouldn't even consider no for an answer.

"Don't you think it'd be better if we were at home, babe?" Louis crooned.

Harry gasped inwardly. This was the second time Louis had called him babe. The first time had been at the gym, for Troy's benefit. This time, they were all alone. So it was intended for his ears alone.

"Louis."

"Harry."

"Can . . . " Harry was trying frantically to catch his breath. "Can we go back and say goodnight to Brooke and Aaron?"

"I reckon we can. And it won't be soon enough for me."

So they began walking back. It was either that, or eat each other alive.

Brooke didn't look startled or even surprised when they pleaded tiredness. There was a glimmer in her eyes, and Louis could read them without any problem. She was thinking they were going home to make love for the first time. Louis wished . . . but he knew the timing had to be right on, or he might blow it as far as a relationship went. He'd see how Harry reacted. It would kill him if Harry were to pull away in fear. He had to avoid a scenario like that no matter how hard it was on him.

They didn't miss all the stares as they left Brooke's house. Stares that burned into their backs with unveiled curiosity. And one scorching glare that made Louis' skin pebble into goose bumps.

They ambled home, each trying to pace himself so he didn't look desperately eager, and at one point Louis shyly reached for Harry's hand. It was so dark, and there were no people in this residential area this time of night, so they held hands right up until they got to the apartment building.

"My God, I didn't expect that!" Harry gushed as soon as they got in the door, Louis carefully locking it and pulling the blinds closed.

"What?" Louis wasn't sure what Harry was talking about.

"You held me hand! I couldn't picture you ever doin' that!"

"Well, you see, I just proved to you that I can be romantic."

Harry was ecstatic. His face glowed, his eyes shone like Louis had never seen before. All because he'd held his hand. Harry was so appreciative of everything—even the little things, and this delighted Louis. He loved seeing Harry this happy.

"What flavor of hot cocoa do you want?" Harry asked from the kitchen.

"You are jokin,' yeah?" Louis was stunned. Hot cocoa after beer? They'd patronized the chocolate store regularly, almost on a schedule, whenever they ran out of it. But now, not only was the weather already warm, and soon to get hot, but they'd been drinking beer all night!

"Really, Haz. I think I'd better just stick to water tonight," Louis tried to let him down easy, because he hated, absolutely _hated _it when Harry got his feelings hurt. "You can have some though," offered Louis, hoping the gesture would console his friend somewhat.

Harry got a glass of water for Louis and a cup of Reese's peanut butter cocoa for himself and they sat down on the couch. Harry had a giant marshmallow floating on the top of his cocoa, and he made sure Louis noticed it by putting it on display almost directly under Louis' nose.

Louis laughed. "I see it, babe. I can think of sommat to do with it too."

"What's that?" Harry was bright and alert, eager to find out what Louis was going to do with the marshmallow.

"We can share it. Take a drink and slurp up the marshmallow too, and we can kiss . . . " Louis let Harry figure out how that would be accomplished, and a gleam showed in his eyes.

Harry drank a swallow of the cocoa, letting the marshmallow flow into his mouth. But it didn't go as planned. The white, fluffy thing was too big, and some of the cocoa dribbled down the front of Harry's shirt. Quite a bit, actually.

"Go rinse the shirt off now, before the stain sets!" cried Louis.

Harry did as he was told, and then came back into the living room wearing a tee-shirt.

_Damn!_ Louis had been hoping he'd come back shirtless. But he still had the marshmallow in his mouth, and Louis grabbed him and kissed him, pulling him down on the couch. They passed it back and forth several times, the sweetness lingering, along with the sexual desire that blossomed with the activity. Finally, Louis bit it in half, using his tongue to insert one half into Harry's mouth, and then chewing the rest of it himself.

Afterward, Harry's eyes were heavy-lidded. "Wow, that was . . . " he searched his mind for a word.

"Sensual?" suggested Louis.

"Yeah! You're a lot more like me than I ever thought before."

"I told you I can be romantic. It's an acquired taste because I haven't done it before, but I'm actually startin' to like it a little bit," Louis revealed. It had been sexy too.

Harry was searching Louis' face as he reached up and tentatively touched Louis' cheek, rubbing gently. Then that same hand went to the front of Louis' chest and began rubbing there.

What was Harry trying to communicate?

It could be really subtle, or really obvious, depending on who was paying attention. and Louis was paying exceptionally close attention.

He was guessing Harry wanted more touching, more intimacy. If he guessed wrong though, what would happen? The only thing he could do was play along rather passively and see where it led.

Louis placed his hand over Harry's hand. The one that was rubbing his chest. In this way he was letting Harry know he liked it. He followed the motion of Harry's hand with his. Then he deftly lowered his other hand and lifted the hem of his own shirt ever so slightly, leaving the rest to Harry.

He saw Harry's eyes lower, Louis's finger holding the hem up only an inch or so. The silence and heaviness in the room were unearthly.

Harry would be asking questions if he had any, so Louis kept mum. He simply waited for Harry's next move, as if this was a card game. Although it was a very important and pivotal move that wasn't, in fact, a game at all. It was rather a life-changing moment that Louis was allowing to happen. He was offering himself to Harry. He wanted Harry at ease, and most crucial of all, not afraid.

It didn't matter if not another thing happened between them tonight. Harry had to understand that Louis accepted him wholeheartedly, whether as a friend or lover. He just wanted him in his life.

He_ needed_ him in his life, to _complete _his life. Did Harry even comprehend how important this was? Judging by how serious and sober Harry looked, Louis had to assume he did. He dared to venture that he did.

This silent communicate they were so good at couldn't fail him now. Louis watched as both Harry's hands went to the hem of Louis' shirt and lifted it up, running his fingers over to the sides also so the entire front of the shirt lifted enough to expose Louis' flat, tanned tummy.

The feather-light feeling of Harry's fingers on his bare flesh caused a shiver to shoot from his chest down to his toes. It was intense and it was awe-inspiring. Harry had the power to destroy him—he knew that in an instant. And did Harry have the faintest idea of what he was doing to his friend?

Next Harry began unbuttoning Louis' shirt, his eyes glued to Louis' chest. Louis felt like dying. Dying of the pleasure. Harry's hands were unsteady, but he got the job done. When all the buttons were unfastened, Harry spread the shirt apart and he stared at Louis' bare chest. Next, he dragged his fingers carefully and reverently through the hair there, acting as if it was a novelty.

When Harry spoke, Louis jerked, not expecting the intrusion of a voice in the tomb-quiet room.

"I've never really touched a bloke before."

Louis, not quite understanding, didn't speak so Harry could continue.

"I had . . . sexual relations . . . with guys, like I told you . . . but, I never, um, really took time and enjoyed touching like this before. Never wanted to," he added quickly. "Just with you."

Well, that was the best compliment Louis had had in a very long time.

"That's how it was with me too, Haz. It was just an act. A means to an end."

"But not this," Harry said quietly. "This is . . . discovery. And I'm really likin' it. I wouldn't like it with someone else."

Again, Louis felt overcome with pleasant sensations at the words.

"I don't feel threatened," Harry said as he continued to thread his fingers in the hairs, and Louis swore he could actually feel the caress in the hairs as well as the actual skin of his chest. His skin was so sensitized.

"Wow," Harry said in a lower voice than was usual, even for himself. "The hair is soft, and it's arousin.'"

Louis didn't know how much more of this he could stand because he'd never been teased like this before. It was so much more than mere teasing though. It was a sensual experience of the highest order. The wait, not knowing what would occur next. Harry's gentle nature. It all combined to create a very potent aphrodesiac.

With both of Harry's hands on Louis' chest, Louis laid his head back on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. Harry's hands, with those long fingers, were putting him into a state of suspended desire. Keeping him at the same level. Keeping him guessing, the arousal bubbling up all around him.

He felt his nipples harden, just the way he'd seen Harry's harden earlier tonight. How he wished Harry hadn't put on a tee shirt. He would bet Harry's nipples were also hard and aching.

Louis knew Harry could probably see his erection through his pants, but he didn't give it a second thought, as Harry's own pants showed a very impressive ridge.

This was all new to him, just as much as it was to Harry. He was just going to have to learn to allow Harry let him know when he was ready for more. Until then, he'd let Harry play with his body to his heart's content.


	27. Chapter 27

Louis was focused, heart and soul, on Harry. Somehow they ended up in Louis' bedroom, although he didn't remember how. A lusty fog surrounded him, making navigation difficult. It was a good thing Harry was there for him to lean on, because he was hard put to dismiss the passion that made him feel giddy.

His shirt unbuttoned, Harry's palm still rubbing his chest, even as they walked through the doorway. What a trip.

"It feels so sexy against me palm," Harry's voice was almost a whisper. Backward Louis walked, as Harry faced him, walking forward, the bed getting closer and closer, until the backs of Louis' knees hit the side of it, and he fell over backward, and Harry fell right on top of him.

Well, _that_ was convenient!

And oh, but it was _nice. _Louis hooked his arms around Harry's waist, the feel of Harry's tee shirt against his chest added friction against his chest hair. By now, feeling their bodies pressed tight against each other, they were kissing in a frantic kind of way. Frantic, but still with some semblance of control. But only barely, at least on Louis' part. Right now, he would have given a lot more than a penny for Harry's thoughts.

The heat, the hunger was becoming hard to bear. His hips rose up without conscious control, and he could feel the hard ridge in Harry's pants collide with his own. To Louis' delight, Harry pressed back, albeit with uncertainty ruling his actions.

Harry's hands continue to explore Louis' chest, sifting through soft brown hair, and he experimented with a nipple. Louis almost shot off the bed and splattered all over the ceiling. His body, that was. If his pants had been off, it might have been a different kind of splatter. Tingles of sharp desire were born under Harry's fingers and the feeling spread into his stomach and then his crotch like steaming lava. Louis whimpered, and it sounded half like a plea and half like an "I can't take this anymore."

Harry, having uncovered the way he was arousing Louis, pushed his face into Louis' chest, rubbing his nose back and forth, glorying in the soft texture on his nose and cheeks, his tongue snaking out, but way too far away from Louis' nipple. Louis actually whined now, tilting his body, coaxing Harry's mouth closer.

_Touch me. Touch me more._

Harry sensed the urgency, and his tongue came within an inch of Louis' greatest need. Finally, he licked that pulsing, needy nipple and Louis cried out. This delighted Harry to no end, so he dished out more of what was causing Louis to act like he'd never seen him act before. It was so erotic, so stimulating to see Louis writhing and nearly begging. What a treat it was to see the passion that Harry had often wondered about. Louis was wild, and he was losing control.

So Harry took it up a step and took a proper taste; sucked. Delicately and softly at first, but getting such strong vibes from Louis, he sucked harder. Louis' hand was on the back of his neck, mumbling things that Harry couldn't understand, hissing through his teeth.

But the language of love and desire is universal. Harry knew how he was affecting Louis, and this floored his own arousal. He continued licking and fondling. He tongued Louis' rock hard nipple as he sucked, not being able to ignore how Louis' chest rose to meet his mouth and his hips rose to meet his own stiff shaft.

He continued, and he would have continued as long as Louis wanted him to. But after several minutes, Louis gently guided his head to the other nipple. Harry was as excited by this as if Louis had been doing it to him. The pop when Louis' nipple escaped his mouth for a second compelled Harry even more. When Louis pushed him back for a moment to look into his eyes, Harry's gaze flicked down, and he saw that Louis' nipples were wet with his own saliva, and that somehow did something Harry thought was impossible—an even greater desire clamped onto him like a vise grip.

"If you keep doin' that, I'm gonna come," warned Louis through deep, rough pants. "I want to feel your bare skin. You know I haven't before. I've respected you, but I can barely deal with this closeness without feeling the skin under your clothes." Louis' voice was gravelly with desire.

Harry wasn't sure what precisely Louis was saying, but a good place to start was with his shirt. When he started to remove it, Louis arrested his movements.

"No . . . here, let me. I want to enjoy it."

Louis' hands went to the bottom of Harry's tee shirt and lifted the hem by tiny degrees, finally feeling that smooth, warm flesh freely, without any recoiling or complaints on Harry's part. No trace of reluctance. When he lifted it halfway up Harry's back as Harry continued to lay on top of him, he indulged himself with the sense of touch. His hands skimmed up and down Harry's back, or at least the lower half of it, and Harry, not knowing what to do, and not accustomed to this, paused, almost holding his breath. This was totally new to him. He just _felt_ with everything in him. There was no roughness here, no pinching. Just fingers fluttering over his sensitive skin, caressing as if Louis was actually making love to him. Only he wasn't. This was just the beginning. Just the appetizer.

There was a promise in the touch of Louis' hands of how good it was going to be –someday. The lack of fear was instrumental in keeping Harry engaged and not dreading it like he used to with the others . . . especially Troy. The pain, oh the pain. He would never forget it and it would forever haunt him.

But this was Louis, not the others. And certainly not Troy. He'd promised to treat Harry right. And he'd said Harry could exit the bedroom whenever he wanted to. Harry trusted him. Still though, there remained a piece of him that was holding back.

Louis sensed this. God, he was so in tune with Harry's feelings. His kisses were sweet. Harry liked that he didn't just thrust his tongue into the center of every situation. Long, lingering, tender kisses and brushes of his lips against Harry's until Harry didn't know what would come next. Then the gentle nibbles . . .

"Just lay here with me and relax," soothed Louis, finally stopping the lip play.

So, Harry wondered if this was supposed to be part of it all. He'd seen in movies how a man and a woman behaved before lovemaking, and knew that gay men were a lot more straightforward about things. At least, he'd _thought _so. Now Louis had just illustrated that two men could be just as loving and sweet. Something he had dreamed about but thought he'd never have. And coming from someone like Louis? The distant, testy, moody Louis he'd met had been protecting his tender insides with his armor. Kind of like a turtle. Carry your armor with you wherever you go, and you won't get hurt.

And this same Louis was now on the bed with him, reassuring him that he was safe in his presence.

And how had it happened that this curly-haired angel called Harry had waltzed into Louis' life with his ever-optimistic attitude? In fact, Harry smiled at him now, dimples and green eyes promising a world, and perhaps a life, of surprises, and his urge to touch Harry and more was all but irrepressible. But he stilled . . . waited for Harry to comprehend what they were up against, and decide what he wanted.

"Wanna talk?" Louis asked, sensing the comfortable silence between them wasn't comfortable enough for Harry. Not yet. Well, it _was,_ but not in bed yet. It was so different when they were on the couch, or cooking together in the kitchen. Anywhere, really. They just hadn't had much bedroom time.

"Sure," Harry propped himself on one elbow, and he seemed just a little bit relieved.

His hair cascaded over his shoulders and down onto Louis' stomach, tickling it in the most erotic way, his fringe falling over his eyes, causing him to smooth it back, something he did about four dozen times a day, and something Louis cherished.

"Nervous?" asked Louis.

Face to face like this, Harry tried to look unaffected. Then thought better of it. Louis could read anxiety in his face, like he often did.

"Yeah, maybe a bit."

"Perfectly alright. "You have to get used to me all over again."

When Harry looked a little confused, Louis clarified.

"You're used to me in an everyday way. Stuff we do every day. Walk dogs, go to the gym . . . but you're not used to me _here ._ . . in this situation yet."

Okay, so Harry understood now, and he was incredibly glad that Louis understood how he felt at the moment, and didn't think he was being bashfully inmature. Confused, dazed, wondering if he was doing the right things, and responding the way he should.

"I have . . . I have so many questions," he admitted. "And I don't even know how to word them to ask."

Louis smiled softly. "I imagine so. Anything you can figure out how to articulate, just ask. But there's really nothin' you can do wrong."

Louis had gone and read his mind again!

Harry half-smiled, and with his soft curls framing his face, he was cute and handsome all-in-one, which seemed an impossibility. He looked like a fairytale to Louis. Or rather, someone _in_ a fairytale. A prince, maybe? Whatever it was, it was so alluring that Louis felt like he could come just from looking at this angel.

But . . . he had to get his mind off that for now. Harry seemed to require a soft, easy seduction. And if it didn't happen soon, Louis would get through it. He knew he could, _for Harry._

"There's sommat I do want to say, but it's not a question."

"I reckon that's fine. A statement is fine. There aren't any rules here."

"Okay, well, um . . . " Harry was taking deep breaths and avoiding Louis' eyes. His gaze was stuck on one of the pillows.

Louis gently cupped the side of his face, guiding him back so their eyes could do their gazing thing again.

"Harry," he said softly.

"Louis," returned Harry.

"Tell me what you want to say, love." Oh . . . Harry felt himself melt just a little bit more every time Louis used an endearment! His heart contracted with an unfamiliar sentimentality.

"It's just that . . . the stronger me feelins' get, the higher the stakes go." There. He'd said it. He'd wanted to say something along those lines for weeks.

Louis was caught off-guard. He hadn't expected a statement of such significance. He was shocked and numbed. But he got over it quickly, for Harry's sake, so he could reassure Harry that he fully comprehended.

"Ahhh!" he cried. "You just said sommat very close to what I've been thinkin' about sayin' to you, but didn't know how to express it."

Harry supposed this was good. Louis was smiling, and he wasn't being sarcastic. He was sincere. Man, what a stick-your-neck-out kind of moment that had been! Harry was filled with euphoria that he'd run the risk and forced himself to say it.

Now the ball was in Louis' court. Harry waited to see what he'd say next.

"You see," began Louis. "Maybe it sounds cheesy now, but as Alfred Lord Tennyson said, and I agree with, is that; it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And that's cheatin,' I know, because someone else said it. So let me find another way to say it."

As he mulled it over, Harry marveled over how easily the word "love" had flowed from Louis' mouth. It had come out so natural sounding.

"Okay, everythin' in life is a risk, Haz. Crossin' the street, drivin' a car, ridin' a horse . . . _you and me. _All examples of risk-takin.' You have to care enough to want to take that risk. You have to be aware of how high the stakes are, and from what you say, I think you do. It has to be worth it to you. Only you can decide, Haz. Not me, and not anyone else on this earth."

Harry didn't blanch for a second. "I wanna take that risk," he said soberly. "At first, your aloof harshness, and your moodiness was really . . . questionable. But even so, I sensed there was sommat in you that was good for me. I felt maybe I could temper your pugnacious attitude. Maybe I was overestimatin' meself, but I realized that me first impression of you was correct. I had to remind meself that you stopped to help me with me battery when you didn't have to, so I knew you had kindness in you. You were just coverin' it up."

"You made all the difference, Haz," confessed Louis. "At first, it was just physical attraction. I'll admit that. But then when I startin' seeing the real person underneath, it really wouldn't have mattered if you were just your average joe. I still would have been drawn to you. But keep in mind . . . I love lookin' at you. As often as I can."

Harry found himself blushing. "I look at you all the time too, but I'm sneaky about it," he divulged. "I try to look at you after you take a shower and come out of the bathroom with just trousers, or if I'm lucky, just a towel 'round your waist."

Louis grinned. "Okay, so maybe I'm guilty of that too."

They both chuckled. Louis snaked his fingers in the back of Harry's hair to get to the back of his neck. Harry closed his eyes.

"You look like a cat that's purrin' every time I do that," observed Louis. "And I like it."

He cupped his hand around the nape of Harry's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was almost lazy. It was meant to get Harry to let go enough to enjoy himself and lose himself in the kiss. Under Louis' languid ministrations, Harry gradually loosened up again, and in no time, they were gently rocking against each other again. Their erections were nearly making contact through their clothes, but Louis needed just the right angle.

"Let me get on top," Louis said.

What? Harry knew a moment of panic and he paused.

"Hazza! Just to continue what we're doin' now. It'll just be a little easier for me if I'm on top."

Harry relaxed and, and forcing himself to sag like a rag doll, he went limp and let Louis flip him over so that he was underneath that fit, tanned body in an instant. The definition of trust. He immediately felt the power in those arms, and it actually turned him on to know that if he tried to get up, Louis could keep him pinned. Not that Louis would, but still . . .

Louis nudged Harry's legs apart with his own, and adjusted his body so that their erections aligned perfectly. Then he waited to see if he'd gone too far, too soon.

Instead, Harry gasped softly, wrapping his arms around Louis' shoulders, not quite jerking his hips, but moving slowly, matching Louis' rhythm. It was a real struggle, and he battled with himself not to thrust up against Louis. It would seem crude and premature. So, as it turned out, they were having parallel thoughts.

After just a couple of minutes, they both quit moving. They were both very close to orgasm, and again, this was transmitted between them without words.

"Alright?" asked Louis.

"Just barely," Harry let a giggle escape because he didn't know what else to do.

"Same here."

They talked again, and Harry had more questions. Did he ever run out of them? Didn't seem so, but Louis didn't mind.

"Are you frustrated?" Harry asked.

"A little, yeah. But it won't kill me."

"What if I proper attacked you?" Harry's eyes shone with mirth.

"Oh, I'd be all over that," confessed Louis.

"But I really wouldn't know what to do." Harry's voice was a little mournful.

"I'll show you, love. No worries."

Harry snuggled down contentedly into Louis' chest.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For understandin' how . . . difficult this is for me."

In a little while, they began to rub against each other again. When Harry began to gasp, Louis ceased his movements.

"Would it be better with no trousers? I think it would," asked Harry, blotches of red popping up on his cheeks from arousal and that lingering shyness.

"Well, yes. If you feel you're ready for that."

"I can always put them back on," Harry said, as if to himself.

Good God, but this gorgeous boy was going to make him go fucking mad! All the teasing. Louis realized Harry was learning, discovering, but his own frustration was reaching record levels.

Harry got up and removed his pants, leaving him in his tee shirt and boxer shorts.

"Might as well take the shirt off too," suggested Louis. "Skin against skin."

Harry's eyes lowered, his long eyelashes fluttering a little as he considered this. He wanted it with a desperation he hadn't known he possessed. He sat down on the bed, hyper aware that his boner was outlined clearly in his underwear. He pulled his tee shirt over his head and laid back down, almost in one motion. Louis' view was limited because Harry had been so cleverly quick.

Louis smiled serenely. He got up and did the same, but he didn't try to hide anything. Even though he felt Harry's eyes like laser beams on the _front of his underwear,_ he acted naturally as he took off his own shirt. He wanted to get it across to Harry that being sexually excited was nothing to be ashamed of.

"We're men," Louis murmured as he dropped back onto the bed. "And men show their arousal externally. No way to hide it. I saw your shape in your underwear, and it's nothin' to be embarrassed about. In fact, it's _fine_! _You're _fine, any way I look at it. We'll get more and more at ease with each other, but I want you to know I'm not oglin' you for any other reason except that your body is beautiful, and I'm enjoyin' the view."

"I'm bashful . . . but I . . . want you too."

Louis hadn't said that, but then, Harry was good at reading his mind. "Good. Let's let our bare chests touch." Louis eased himself on top of Harry again. Harry's smooth skin was a nice contrast to his own somewhat hairy chest.

Louis' chest against his own—Harry was soaking it all up. The hairs stimulated his nipples when rubbed against him. Louis began to kiss and lightly suck his neck. Louis' soft yet manly clean scent filled his nostrils. Harry became aware of the desire overtaking him again. He wanted . . . he needed . . . but he wasn't quite sure what it was he was seeking.

He knew what men did, but somehow, with Louis, it took on a whole new meaning. There were _feelings_ involved here, not just lust. Dirty, blind groping, and men grabbing what they wanted from him. No, with Louis it would be different. Louis would be good to him.

Harry's hips began to move just the slightest bit, but Louis felt it. Now they could feel each other twice as well. All that lay between them were two thin pieces of the fabric of their underwear; nothing more. They could feel the hard, throbbing physical need of their cocks straining to break free of their constraints.

Louis' hand was between them now. His rough, ragged breathing told Harry he was longing for more. His hand was caressing Harry's stomach, rubbing circles over it. Louis' head lowered, and he took his first taste of nipple. Harry arched and made a sort of cooing sound. Louis' hand was dipping lower and lower, until he reached the top of Harry's boxer shorts. His fingers played with the elastic in the waist band, skittering over it, and soon Harry was making different noises, then he was talking.

"Lou, Lou _please."_

Gritting his teeth and almost actually growling, Louis laid the palm of his hand down on Harry's navel area. As Harry's hips rose yet again, Louis' hand lowered, and unable to help himself, his palm cupped Harry's erection through his underwear, his fingers slowly and surely closing around the shaft, and they sighed in unison.

_He hadn't meant for this to happen yet._


	28. Chapter 28

When they had left the vet hospital after Horace was put to sleep, the receptionist had told Mr. Stewart she would bill him. Louis and Harry helped Mr. Stewart into the backseat, and Harry said he had to go back into the hospital to use the restroom. Louis thought it strange that he hadn't used the facilities when he was inside, but of course, didn't mention it.

In the following days, Louis noticed Harry checking the mail on a daily basis. He hadn't done that before. They had more or less taken turns.

"What's this with the mail?' Louis finally asked one day.

Harry, who couldn't tell a lie to save his soul admitted that when he'd gone back into the hospital to "use the restroom," he'd asked the receptionist to send the bill to their address—not Mr. Stewart's.

Louis gasped. Harry's generosity once again. He supposed he'd better get used to it, because Harry wasn't likely to change.

Without even thinking twice, Louis protested. "You're not payin' it, I am!"

"No, I want to pay it," Harry retorted.

"Okay, then let me pay half."

They settled on that. But still, the bill did not arrive. Harry finally called on about the tenth day. The receptionist went to get the chart, then came back to the phone.

"The doctor made a notation on the chart that there was no charge for the visit," she said.

"No charge?" Harry was jarred. This had been, after all, Mr. Stewart's first visit to that vet.

"No. No charge."

"Tell him thank you from the bottom of our hearts," Harry's voice broke a little.

Right after that, he called and ordered flowers for the vet and staff. A huge bouquet with a thank you card. And this time he wouldn't budge about letting Louis pay for half.

"Harry, you surprise me on a regular basis," said Louis after Harry got off the phone. He hugged him close.

Two days later, there came a decisive knock on the door. They opened it to find Mr. Stewart standing there, Matilda on a leash and sitting at his feet. There was no vehicle parked outside the building that was unfamiliar. Apparently Mr. Stewart had walked, even though it was about two miles from his home.

"I didn't get a bill from the vet hospital, so I called, and they said there was no charge," he said without even a greeting. But his eyes were twinkling.

"That's right, there wasn't," Harry replied, then clapped his hand over his mouth, having blown it once again. "Whoops!"

"How'd you know that?" Mr. Stewart was looking curious.

Louis spoke up. "Well, since Harry let the cat out of the bag enough to where it can't be stuffed back in—we called too, because Harry had told them to bill us, and they told us the same thing."

"Well, I'll be! You rascals! You just never stop doing kind things for people, do you?"

"Harry never does," and Louis pointed at the culprit, who humbly blushed. "It was his idea."

"Well, Matilda has been lookin' for Horace, and whinin' and pacin.' After what Harry suggested the other day, I started thinkin' about it. I guess I need to get another dog sooner than I thought," the older man explained.

"We'll be glad to help you! Or I will, if Louis will be busy or sommat," Harry threw a sidelong glance at Louis, not sure how he felt about this. Louis immediately piped up with, "Of course we will! When do you want to go, Mr. Stewart?"

"As soon as possible."

And so they ended up at the dog pound. All those dogs, homeless and sad, and yet still expectant that they might be chosen, staring up at them, wagging their tails. Harry had to stop a few times to collect himself, but he bravely carried on. One of these dogs was going to be very lucky today. They might not be able to save them all, but they could save one, he kept reminding himself.

Mr. Stewart, with Matilda still at his side, because he said she had to approve of his choice, scouted every dog run in the place, three or four times. Rows and rows. It felt as if they'd walked for miles, and they were pretty sure they had. Even though Louis and Harry were fit, and also walked dogs on a daily basis, so walking was no stranger to them, Mr. Stewart was practically running circles around them.

"I don't want a puppy," he explained. "Puppies have to be housebroken, and they chew everything and would be too energetic for poor old Matilda. I don't want a real old one either, as I'd have to say goodbye too soon. I think I'd like a middle aged one. A few years younger than Matilda. Mature, yet active enough to encourage Matilda to play and take her mind off Horace."

He had it all planned, alright. The problem was getting him to actually choose a dog. They had both made several suggestions. But each had been rejected by Mr. Stewart for one reason or another. One had a habit of jumping up on a person's legs, and Mr. Stewart was afraid Mrs. Stewart would be knocked over or scratched. Legit.

Another one had long hair. Couldn't do that. Mrs. Stewart said no more long-haired dogs. She was weary of grooming. Also legit.

Another one was too big, another was too small. This was getting to be exasperating. Louis feared they'd be here until closing time and Mr. Stewart still wouldn't have made a decision.

Just when Louis and Harry were looking at each other in near despair, thinking the "ideal dog for Mr. Stewart" did not possibly exist, Mr. Stewart stopped so quickly that they nearly ran into the back of him.

"Tail gaters!" he accused them playfully. Harry giggled, and Louis grinned.

Mr. Stewart was bending down now, petting a dog. The card on the run said it was an owner surrender. They'd had to move and couldn't take dog. He was housebroken and six years old. Neutered too. He wasn't going to win any beauty contests by any stretch, but Mr. Stewart didn't care about that. A companion for Matilda was the priority here. The dog looked like a cross between several breeds. Louis recognized Corgi, Chihuahua and Beagle. Weighed about twenty, twenty-five pounds. Wasn't barking or whining. Just sitting there patiently, licking Mr. Stewart's hand.

"Nice personality, huh?" asked Mr. Stewart. Louis and Harry nodded eagerly. "He's calm too. Now, the most important test is Matilda. She has to get along with him, and actually_ like_ him," emphasized Mr. Stewart.

Well, this could turn out to be a blessing or a disaster. Louis and Harry held their breath as a kennel helper led the little dog out on a leash to present to Matilda. If it didn't work out, they'd probably be here for two more hours, at least.

Incredibly, the dogs got on well together. Matilda wasn't overly friendly, but she wasn't nasty either. She waited to see how the new guy would behave around her. And he was a gentleman. He wagged his tail sedately, and stepped right up, ready for a walk.

"Looks good so far, don't it?" asked Mr. Stewart. "He'll have to win her over, but at least she isn't growlin' at him."

Louis and Harry both nodded like maniacs. They could hardly believe their good fortune. It looked like they were finally going to get to go home.

Mr. Stewart absolutely insisted on paying the adoption fee. But it wasn't hard to let him—the shelter was having a half off deal, plus, with his senior discount, it meant he only had to pay thirty dollars.

All the way home, Louis kept waiting to hear a growl or sharp bark indicating a fight was on the horizon, but no such thing happened. When they dropped man and dogs off at home, Mrs. Stewart was on the porch, waiting, and she waved to Louis and Harry, running to greet their new family member, a wildly happy expression decorating her face.

"Think we've done enough good deeds for this week?" joked Louis as he and Harry settled down on the couch.

"Doesn't it feel good?" asked Harry. And Louis had to admit, it did feel very good.

Harry had introduced him to a whole new way of life. Help people out. Be kind, be courteous. And have lots of compassion.

A little later, Louis' phone rang, and seeing on the display that it was Mr. Stewart, Louis knew a moment of panic. The worst scenario came to mind. Matilda and the new dog had gotten into a fight, the new dog had peed on the carpet, and a million other things were entirely possible.

But Mr. Stewart sounded happy. "He's workin' out fine. In fact, the doctor says I need more exercise, so I'm gonna start walkin' them myself," he informed Louis. "It won't be a hardship for you if I cancel your services?"

Louis smiled. "Of course not, Mr. Stewart. We have more than enough business as it is. I think it's great that you'll be walkin' them."

"Okay, I'll give you a call if it gets to be too much, and I change my mind."

"Happy days!"

Louis rang off with a big smile and an "Oi, Oi!" Now they wouldn't have to go to the dog pound _again _tomorrow. He'd had the phone on speaker, so Harry had heard it all, and Louis noticed his eyes were a little misty.

The next day, as soon as they were done walking dogs, Louis informed Harry he was going to get a little sun. He grabbed a chaise lounge and went outside, coconut oil in hand, and dressed in only cut-offs. Harry's breath hitched, knowing that was probably all Louis was wearing, as Louis liked to go commando whenever possible.

The weather had really heated up, earlier than was normal. Harry glanced at the outdoor thermometer as he followed Louis. It was ninety-seven degrees. They had been walking dogs for four hours, and Harry had been ready to jump into the shower, but he sure wasn't going to miss seeing Louis sunbathing, although he couldn't figure out how to accomplish it without being seen by Louis.

He sat on the couch, trying to think of an excuse to go out there and talk with Louis as he sunbathed. Suddenly, he remembered about the therapist. Perfect! He'd entirely forgotten to ask Louis for the man's phone number. That whole discussion had slipped his mind. Louis must have thought he'd decided not to go ahead with it.

Outside Harry went, happy to have an excuse and a good subject to bring up, walking up to Louis, who wore cool sunglasses and looked so edible and sun tanned. Like milk chocolate. Looming over him. Louis smelled of coconut oil and sweat.

_Louis smelled like summer at the beach._

"I see a shadow from behind me eyelids. What're you onto, Harold?"

"Um . . . " not sure how to start, and a little light headed and giddy from the sight and enticing scent, Harry hesitated.

"Yeah?" Louis prompted.

"About that therapist. I forgot all about it until now. But I wanted you to know that I'd still like to go."

Louis looked a little on the stunned side. "I know you don't just make things up, and you don't agree to sommat unless you're serious, but I was wonderin' about it."

"Let's call him tomorrow, yeah?" suggested Harry.

"Sure."

So they called and made an appointment for the following week, in the afternoon, so they'd have time to shower after walking dogs in the heat. Louis was pleased-Harry could tell. And while Harry was a little nervous about telling a therapist about being gay, and, most of all, not being able to relax after his bad experience, he knew he needed to do it not only for Louis, but for himself. He needed to get to the bottom of it, and find out what he could do to rectify it.

Louis was beginning to silently go ape, sleeping with Harry every night. Although he enjoyed it to the max, it was just more torture on top of torture. Waking up with a boner this morning as usual, and so grateful Harry usually rose earlier than he did, he stumbled into the kitchen for some coffee.

"The floor! The floor!" cried Harry, mop in his hand and wash rag in the other. "Wait until the floor dries!"

Harry always mopped the floor, and then did it all over again, but the second time on his hands and knees. Louis never could understand it. Harry said it was because he wanted to get into every corner and crevice, and you couldn't do that thoroughly enough with just a mop.

Louis had to admit the floor had never looked better, but he wanted his morning coffee! He couldn't function without it. He'd all but given up tea since being in the US.

"I have to have me coffee!" Louis whined, backing out of the kitchen, the full, rich aroma of the stuff accosting and teasing his nostrils.

"Fifteen minutes, Tommo! Fifteen minutes for the floor to dry, and then you can have your coffee."

Louis, already frustrated by having to sleep right up against the world's most desirable man night after night, felt himself losing it over this small incident, and he wigged out.

Tersely, he said, "You can mop up me footprints in seconds!"

Harry, in a rare show of temper, responded with, "Stop razzin' me about the floor, Tomlinson. You won't die in fifteen minutes' time without coffee."

_Wow, that was kinda harsh,_ thought Louis. Harry might be a sweetie, but he could set you straight when it was required. Like the night he'd deterred that sleazy guy from robbing Louis behind the gym.

"Damn it all to hell!" Louis, clearly pouting, stomped back to the bedroom and flopped down on the bed.

Harry, not one to let things fester, followed his instincts and flounced in after Louis.

"I don't think we can go to that therapist any too quickly," he railed at Louis.

Whoa! Louis sat up, jolted. _"We? _What's this about _we?_ The therapist is for you!"

"Not from where I stand. You're not exactly composed right now. And all over a damp kitchen floor!"

Louis sighed heavily, brushed his fringe out of his eyes and, realizing how trivial this was, he laughed. "You're right, Haz. Not sure why I reacted that way." He knew exactly why he'd reacted that way, but he wasn't going to admit it to Harry.

"I know you're fractious at times, but this was a little over the top."

"I guess I'll survive for fifteen minutes," and Louis smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Haz."

The morning sun was shining through the window that Louis had thrown open because the weather was so nice. Harry's green eyes looked like the sunlight filtered right through them. _Nice. _

"Think we're both reactin' to sommat?" asked Harry.

"Both? No. Just me. I'm the one gettin' all hot under the collar, not you," emphasized Louis.

"I guess I seriously need a chill pill."

"Kissy?" Harry requested timidly.

"Don't do that Harry! You know what it does to me!"

"I'm not bein' fair to you, am I?"

"You can't help it. But you're gonna get help. Next week."

"Yeah," Harry looked almost relieved. Louis imagined he was. Most people would be unsure about seeing a professional, or at least tentative. But at this point, Harry just seemed grateful. Louis would have liked to believe it was because he wanted to make things better between them, but he couldn't be sure. Harry might have other issues that he'd want to discuss. That was okay. As long as Harry was happy with himself, and his life.

They sat in the waiting room along with a few other people. No one looked at anyone else. It didn't bother Harry. He was happily reading from his Kindle, looking up often to see how Louis was doing. Louis, although he didn't say it, was the nervous one here. And the appointment wasn't even for him!

When the receptionist called Harry's name, Louis jumped as if a lightning bolt had gone through him. Harry giggled. "Come on, Lou. It's not all that bad."

As Louis had predicted, the doctor wanted to see Harry alone first. But only for the first half hour. After that, the receptionist said Louis could join them for the final half hour.

It was a long initial half hour. Louis played with the bottoms of his vans with his fingers, then got up to get a drink of water, sitting down again quickly when every eye in the room traced his every step. Even worse, the plastic chair he was sitting in made weird, fart-like noises when he moved.

When at last he was called in, his anxiety went through the roof. Why was he nervous? Because of the subject matter, of course. And he wasn't altogether sure what Harry had already said to the therapist. And also because he'd told no one in the world outside of Harry and his family, that he was gay. So this was a game-changer.

As Louis was shown to the room by the receptionist, Louis saw Harry sitting on a couch with the psychotherapist facing him in a chair on the opposite wall. It was a small room, so the therapist was only about five feet from Harry.

Louis knew he looked nervous—but there was nothing he could do about it. And he knew the therapist was probably reading his body language as well as his every thought. He walked in and shook hands with the therapist.

"Nice to see you again, Louis," said Dr. Meeks.

"Nice to see you again too, Doctor," Louis said weakly.

"Have a seat," Dr. Meeks waved a hand at the couch Harry was sitting on. It was the only other piece of furniture in the room except for the doctor's chair, a side table beside the couch and a bookshelf anyway, so Louis sat down, being careful not to sit too close to Harry, for fear Harry might entwine their ankles like he did at home.

Silence for a few moments, then Dr. Meeks spoke up.

"Louis, Harry has told me a synopsis of his life and how you two met and came to share an apartment. Can you do the same for me, please?"

Louis' voice was shaky, and he knew it. It sounded so halting and uncertain, and he hated that. It wasn't his personality to be so hesitant, but then, he didn't know what to expect—what the doctor might ask. It was one thing to see a therapist about leaving one job and taking on another, and a totally different thing to be talking about intimacy, and admitting he was gay. He supposed he was also afraid of disapproval. He kept remembering the older man's look of condemnation at Brooke's barbeque. He supposed he was lucky that man was the only one to look at him that way.

He told the doctor his own story in a greatly abbreviated version. Just the pertinent facts. He didn't mention being attracted to Harry, or anything that had transpired between them. He figured that would come up soon enough anyway. And it did.

"Harry tells me you two are close," Dr. Meeks chose his words carefully. "That you've developed a very good friendship, and as of lately, share the same bedroom."

Louis shuddered, trying to suppress it so the doctor wouldn't see, but he fell short of the mark. Dr. Meeks acted as if he hadn't taken note of it though. He had to be an expert at hiding his own reactions to be successful at his job, Louis figured.

Louis merely nodded. He didn't want to volunteer any information. He'd leave it up to Harry for fear he'd say something that might embarrass or upset Harry.

"Harry tells me you two have been close physically, such as kissing and hugging, and sleeping close together at night," Dr. Meeks continued. "But Harry is having difficulty with the intimacy part, and accepting it because of his past negative experience with an abusive partner. Well, not really partner, as Harry tells me it was short-lived and not loving."

That summed it up pretty well. Louis had to admit he was impressed.

"That's about it," he said. "In a nutshell, that's it."

Harry also tells me he is not opposed to being open about his sexuality . . . " the doctor paused, leaving an opening for Louis to comment. Louis figured he'd have to speak up sooner or later, so it might as well be now.

"And I'm not comfortable with that as of yet," Louis explained. "Concerning meself, not Harry."

The doctor nodded his understanding. "These things can't be forced, and when you're ready, you'll know. Harry realizes that too." He smiled at Harry.

"And you have no qualms about intimacy, no fears?" Dr. Meeks asked Louis.

This was going to be hard to express. Louis wracked his brain. He did have fears that Harry wouldn't be able to get past a certain point as far as their intimacy went. But as for his own feelings, he couldn't be more certain of where he stood when it came to wanting Harry.

"No, no I don't," was what he ended up saying.

"How do you feel about Harry?" asked the doctor.

Louis hadn't expected such a blunt question. It made him start to sweat. He looked over at Harry for the first time since he'd sat down. Harry had an expectant, very pure look on his face. Pure? Yeah, Harry looked pure, despite what they were about to discuss.

_No pressure here. Nah, none at all._

Honesty. That was most important. Louis measured his words and then spoke, his voice getting quivery and brittle again.

"I care very much for Harry. I like everything about him. We get along great."

Dr. Meeks sat and waited for more. _Oh come on,_ thought Louis. _What more do you want me to say? That I'm madly in love with him? _He wasn't even sure if he could admit that to_ himself _yet. So he tip-toed around it.

"He means a lot to me. He's there for me no matter what, and we respect each other."

_That better be enough._

Thank God it was, and Dr. Meeks didn't silently pressure him to say something he wasn't ready to say yet.

Dr. Meeks turned to Harry. "You've been quite open about how you feel about Louis, so why don't you tell him now, what you've already told me?"

Harry's eyes were haunted when Louis turned his head to look at him. He was breathing quickly and shallowly. Louis could tell his mouth was dry, as he was wetting his lips frantically. He picked up a glass of water from the side table and took a swallow. He fidgeted and squirmed, but didn't take his eyes off Louis, which really overawed Louis.

Finally, Harry breathed in a deep breath and spoke.

"I'm completely charmed by him, I love how he treats me, I respect all he stands for, and . . . um, I'm in love with him."


	29. Chapter 29

Louis couldn't suppress the gasp any more than he could have schooled his features into a poker face.

_Harry was in love with him!_

The therapist, of course, showed no reaction. He was trained to be unassuming and nonjudgmental. He stole a glance at Louis, and seeing the young man's shock, he decided not to dwell on the words Harry had just spoken.

Seeing how Louis was stunned, the doctor gave him a minute to compose himself. He began to write on his notepad in an offhand way until he felt Louis was enough in the present to continue with the session.

Just like Harry to drop a bomb like that in front of a stranger! But was Louis mad at him? No, of course not. He'd probably felt safer saying it here than chancing having Louis freak out at home. Not that Harry was afraid of him, but the fact that he'd never said those words to him before was probably enough to make Harry leery of a questionable reaction.

"So, I understand there is a problem with intimacy?" Dr. Meeks directed this to Louis.

"Well, erm, yeah. On Harry's part. It's . . . difficult for him."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Typical shrink question, thought Louis. But he had to be cooperative, and humor the guy because Harry needed help. After all, he himself was not qualified to do it.

"I'm patient . . . I hope," Louis said, tossing Harry a glance to see if Harry agreed.

Harry nodded. "He is," he agreed.

"Okay, so Harry, we know you've been treated roughly by someone else. Has Louis ever treated you roughly?"

"No, never," Harry shook his head firmly.

"And you know he never would, am I right?"

"Yes, I do know that."

"What, precisely, is it you're afraid of, Harry?"

Oh boy. This was where it was going to get interesting.

Harry tried to put on a brave face. But instead an instant later, he crumpled. There wasn't any forewarning. He just collapsed, like a balloon devoid of air, flopping back against the back of the couch, his head thrown back as well, whereas he'd been sitting on the edge before. As if he hadn't the strength to sit up straight any longer.

"Harry, you do need to talk about it. It's the only way we can get to the bottom of it. The meat of the matter."

Geez . .. Louis really wished the therapist hadn't used that particular expression. He would have laughed, but this wasn't the time nor the place.

"Well, I . . . I'm not sure what _exactly_ it is," Harry floundered. "I just don't want it to turn into what happened in the past."

"And what makes you think it might?"

This guy was relentless with his questions! Louis almost wanted to tell him to fuck off and drag Harry out of there. It seemed like too much pressure. But, upon reflection, he realized it must be necessary. It was the guy's job, after all. It might be a little painful for Harry, but if this would help him, maybe they'd both be grateful for the outcome . . . someday.

"I don't know. I'm just . . . nervous."

"How far have you gone, sexually, if at all?"

Louis knew the questions had to be asked, but he felt somehow violated. And felt violated for Harry as well.

"Just huggin,' kissin,' and kinda rubbin' against each other," Harry said bashfully, his face turning bright red.

"With clothes off or on?" was the next question.

"Just underwear—that's the farthest it's gone."

"You understand I have to ask these questions to make a determination on how much counseling might be needed . . ." Dr. Meeks looked back and forth at Louis and Harry. "I'm not asking them to make you uncomfortable."

"Yes, we realize that," Louis volunteered.

"Harry, do you do anything to help yourself relax when you get nervous?"

"No, I just get uptight and we split apart. We don't push it. We back off. Or rather, I do."

"Okay, well next visit we might work on some things you can do to relax yourself. As long as you have complete trust in Louis though, I believe you will eventually manage it on your own. I can see the bond the two of you have. I see no fear, only trust and respect. The two of you are very close. You're even mirroring each other. It's up to you. You can continue coming to see me, or you can let it evolve naturally at home. And I'm sure it will. If you choose that option, you can always call and make an appointment if anything else comes up."

So Dr. Meeks was essentially saying that they would be fine on their own, and to let nature take its course. Now Louis felt bad about having negative thoughts about the therapist. The guy was being honest.

All three men stood up and Harry and Louis shook hands with Dr. Meeks.

"Thank you, doctor," Harry and Louis said in stereo.

Dr. Meeks smiled. "See what I mean? You're mirroring again." They all laughed.

As they filed through the office door, Dr. Meeks asked Harry to go to the waiting room and have a seat while he had a quick word with Louis.

After Harry had disappeared down the hall into the waiting room, Dr. Meeks motioned for Louis to go back into the room they were just in, and he closed the door.

"Louis, frankly it sounds as if you don't need any help. You've done a fine job so far in trying to make Harry comfortable, and not pressuring him. But I just want to make you aware that it might be some time before Harry trusts you enough to allow more intimacy. You'll have to be patient. It's a tall order."

Louis nodded. "I'm aware of that, doctor. And Harry is worth the wait, no matter how long."

Dr. Meeks smiled. "You know, I knew I had nothing to worry about when Harry began to talk about you. His eyes lit up, his whole body language changed. He's clearly enchanted. A young man who has had the bad experience that Harry has had, and has dated no one since, yet let you into his life . . . well, that tells me you are a good person, and Harry really does want to make it work. He's special, Louis. I don't see people like him often. Don't let him go." The doctor grinned, but Louis sensed how serious he was. "Again, any problems, call me. But I don't think it'll be a concern."

Louis shook his hand again. "Thank you for havin' faith in me, and believe me, I know how special Harry is," was all he was able to say, because his throat was tightening, and he felt that rare burn behind his eyes. He had to get out of here before he began to cry . . . But Dr. Meeks must have sensed it, as he patted him on the back and sent him on his way.

Harry paid at the desk, which was only a low deductible, and they left, both quite satisfied with the way things had gone.

"Want to tell me what the doc said to you while I was in the waitin' room?" asked Harry once they had gotten home.

"No secret there, Haz. He just wanted to be sure I understood that I have to be patient with you. He thinks we'll be fine."

Things had never looked better for them, and both were excited for the future, although they didn't discuss it because it was still early, and there was so much more to learn about each other. There was no rush.

A few days later, Brooke called on Louis' phone, saying she was having trouble with her computer, and no one she knew seemed to be able to figure out the problem. "No one is computer literate," she explained, sounding frustrated. She asked Louis if he knew much about the machines. Well, he'd had lots of experience with them while at his previous job, so said he had no problem with coming over to take a look at it.

When Louis asked for her address, she said she was at Aaron's house. Apparently she'd already moved in with him.

"Wow, that was fast!" exclaimed Harry when Louis told him after he'd disconnected the call.

"Yeah, maybe a little _too_ fast," was Louis' reply. As far as he knew, they'd only known each other a few weeks at most. "But then again, you and I moved in together in a relatively short period of time too," he reminded Harry. It had only been a few months.

"Wanna come with me?" Louis asked.

"Of course I do!"

Louis reckoned that was part of the reason they got on so well. He and Harry did almost everything together, and never got tired of being in close proximity to each other.

When they got there, Aaron greeted them at the door, and he was every bit the nice guy they'd met; very congenial and pleasant. Brooke showed them into the office, where her PC was.

Louis tinkered around with it, Harry and Brooke watching studiously over each of his shoulders. Neither understood a thing he was doing. Louis isolated the problem in about fifteen minutes. It was fairly basic.

"You have too much Adware, which is causing it to bog down and sometimes freeze. You also have a lot of junk on here I need to clear out."

Brooke nodded. "Would you mind? I'll pay you. I'd call in a professional, but I'd rather have someone I know and trust do it."

Louis waved his hand. "No need to pay me. It'll only take a few minutes. Besides, we didn't bring anythin' to the barbeque," he smiled.

He got rid of all the extra non-essentials and installed an Ad Blocker as well as a better virus protection than she currently had.

"It ought to run a lot smoother and faster now," he said, demonstrating this fact as he whizzed from website to website.

Brooke was thrilled. "Oh Louis! That's a big difference! Thank you so much!" She hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek with a loud smack. Louis looked helplessly at Harry, and Harry giggled.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you," Brooke apologized after she finally let him go. She sniffed quietly. "You smell so good!"

"He always does," Harry's voice was teasing and sly. This made Brooke giggle too. Louis only just managed not to blush.

"You two are so cute!" she gushed.

As Harry and Louis were leaving Brooke's house, headed for the front door, it opened before they could turn the knob, and an older man walked right in.

"Oh, Uncle Phil!" said Brooke. "I didn't know you were coming over!"

Louis recognized the man almost immediately. He was the one that had been at the barbeque, and had looked so scornfully at himself and Harry. Of all people! And this was Brooke's uncle?

"Oh, it's you," the man wrinkled up his nose as if Louis made him feel ill.

Louis ignored it. "This is my Uncle Phil. This is Harry and Louis," Brooke threw introductions around "He was at the barbeque."

"Yes, we've met, in a fashion," deadpanned Louis. His gaze leveled with the older man's, refusing to be the first to look away. Harry looked on curiously. Evidently he hadn't seen the looks exchanged between the man and Louis at the barbeque.

Peanut, the Pomeranian was at their feet, and began to bark at them, but Aaron appeared with his hot dog slices and the dog quieted down.

"Come on, I'll walk you out to the car," Brooke said. Aaron went with them. They were carrying on a spirited, light-hearted conversation, assuming Louis was following.

Suddenly, before he could join them, a hand shot out of nowhere, and Brooke's Uncle Phil held Louis back with a firm grip on his upper arm.

"You had a lot of balls to be at that barbeque, bein' all lovey with your boyfriend," Uncle Phil indicated Harry out in the yard with a jerk of his head. "You shouldn't be acting like that in front of decent folk. It's deplorable. One of these days someone is going to take you down."

Louis was momentarily frozen, until he realized Uncle Phil's hand was still on his arm. He shook it off angrily.

"It's none of your business. And no one else there seemed to be bothered," he shot back.

"I was bothered. And I'm sure plenty of others were too, but were too polite to say anything. Your kind of people are disgusting. And flaunting it like that in front of people you didn't even know. You've got a lotta nerve."

Louis cast him a look that said he put the man in the category of a pesky fly. "Look, if you weren't Brooke's uncle, I'd slug you right here, right now. But I don't want to upset her. Mind your own business, and get a life." Louis strode away, catching up to Brooke and Harry, who were laughing at some lame joke Harry had made, said good night to Brooke and Aaron, and sped away in the Mustang.

Louis was seething. He had to force himself not to return to the house and smack the shit out of that homophobe who couldn't seem to keep his nose out of their business. Louis didn't tell Harry about the incident. He was going to, but changed his mind rather quickly. It would make Harry feel terrible, as he had been the one to kiss Louis' neck in front of everyone. He didn't want to make Harry feel responsible for any dissension between Louis and Brooke's relatives, since it seemed like Brooke was going to be a good friend of theirs.

It was the first thing Louis had ever kept from Harry, and it distressed him, but the way Uncle Phil had come into the house without even knocking made it pretty clear that the man was close to his niece and was probably around quite a bit. He was also pushy as hell. Were they going to have to give up their friendship with Brooke and Aaron because of Brooke's uncle?

Louis felt like shit. He'd been living a fucking lie for so long, and now someone had found out, and what happened almost right away? He got ridiculed. Just when he thought he and Harry had more or less been accepted by the people at the barbeque, someone steps forward and squashes the little bit of positive vibe he'd gotten. And Harry had to be protected from this. So did Brooke. He couldn't say anything to her, as it could strain or even ruin her relationship with her uncle. So guess what? He was going to have to deal with this alone.

Harry knew something was troubling Louis. And it had come on so fast. Louis had been fine right up until they'd left Brooke's house, but then was sullen on the way home. He did make an effort to appear his old self, but was doing a terrible job of it. When it came to certain things, Louis wasn't quite so good at hiding his feelings. But what was this certain thing?

"Lou, did I do sommat to upset you, or make you angry at me?" he asked.

"No, Haz. I'm just tired. I'm gonna call it a night." Louis went to his bedroom, leaving Harry on the couch. They always watched the telly before bed, and it was only nine anyway. Harry didn't know what to do. Louis had looked almost despondent.

He showed up at Louis' bedside.

"I know, we have to stop meetin' like this, but can I stay with you? Hold you?" Harry asked softly.

"Me head's spinnin' right now Harry. Why don't you watch some telly and come to bed later? It's too early for you to want to sleep yet."

"Do you need me in here? Because if you need me—"

"No!" Louis said, and it sounder harsher than he'd intended." I don't need you here. I need to think. Now, leave me alone for a while, please."

Before Louis had even finished the sentence, guilt wracked him. Harry had done nothing wrong. He was innocent, and shouldn't have to be subjected to this. Yet, Louis didn't even try to stop him when Harry left the room, head down and obviously feeling hurt.

"Damn that man! And just when Louis was coming to terms with, and learning to actually accept the fact that he was gay. Sure, he'd been with a lot of guys, but he had felt dirty every time, and hadn't really classified himself as gay, even in his own thoughts.

_Denial._

Harry had been starting to change all that. Harry made him feel free. Harry was beginning to help him let go of the shame. Brooke and Aaron had also accepted him. He had started to grow his wings. And then one bigot of a man had torn down his fragile, barely erected confidence in who he truly was.

He tried to remind himself that there would be lots more like that man. It was far from the last time he'd be judged and looked at as a deviant, an abomination. He had to learn to be happy with who he was, who he loved.

_Loved?_

It was then that he came to terms with it. _He was in love with Harry._ And Harry had just admitted recently that he was in love with him. It felt so good, so right. Until he remembered the scathing look on that man's face. Brooke's uncle. Somehow, that dulled all the bright, glowing edges of hope.

Every morning when they woke up, Louis had morning wood, pressing up against Harry's soft butt and the torture continued. Sweet torture.

Feeling Louis' hard-as-flint erection up flush against him, Harry had the strongest urge to back into him even more. But somehow he refrained. It wasn't right to do that to Louis, who was practicing admirable control. Louis could be in charge, and he could step back; whatever Harry indicated he preferred. Harry loved that about him. But he felt guilty too. It was guilt that was not only sharp and stabbing, but also a dull and endless ache because he knew he had to wait until he was ready. Otherwise it could turn into a traumatizing experience, and then perhaps he would never recover.

They were making money hand over fist walking dogs. It was hard to believe they were still having to turn people away, even though Harry was walking just as many dogs as Louis. Word spread.

They always walked together, each with anywhere from three to five dogs. When an itty bitty one would get tired of trying to keep up with the larger, long-legged dogs, Harry would pick the little one up for a while. Most of the time though, one would take the big dogs and the other would take the small ones. They were well known in the neighborhood, even strangers honking and waving at them, having heard about the two guys who walked countless dogs every day, in all weather.

Through all the good times though, Harry sensed something was still wrong. He couldn't imagine what had transpired at Brooke's house that night that he didn't know about. He knew Louis had stayed behind for just an extra couple of minutes while Brooke and Aaron had walked him to the car. What could have happened? The only other person there had been Brooke's uncle.

Louis had always been open and honest with him—at least since they'd confessed they had feelings for each other. But now there was something Louis was holding back, carefully keeping something hidden from him. That hurt even worse than the fact that they had to wait to show their feelings physically.

As for Louis, he lived his days with the memory of those unkind words. Much as he tried to expel them, they kept creeping back, mocking him, making him seriously question if he and Harry should be together. He had wanted to protect Harry, and now he felt the opposite was happening. He was putting Harry in the path of prejudice and hate, because this certainly wouldn't be the first time something like this would happen.


	30. Chapter 30

Yeah, they'd moved out of the friend-zone. But they were also at a stand-still. Kind of suspended in time. If Louis wanted to pursue this relationship with Harry, he'd have to somehow put aside his fears about the homophobes out there in the world. He knew one thing for sure—he wasn't willing to give Harry up.

Presently, Louis didn't know if he should put the moves on Harry, or leave him alone. How would he know when the time had come? Should he leave it all on Harry's shoulders?

Going to the gym regularly, Harry was looking even hotter than when Louis had met him. Just what he needed, more temptation. He knew he should compliment him, but how to put it without it sounding like a come-on?

It had to sound sincere to Harry's ears.

"You're really startin' to get some definition," he blurted one night as they were leaving the gym.

"I am?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

Well, that had gone real well. NOT. Harry clearly sensed there was still something wrong. That was why he was being so tight-lipped. Normally, this compliment would have delighted Harry. To be fair, Louis knew he should tell him about what Brooke's uncle had said, but just couldn't bring himself to do it.

When they walked in the apartment door, Harry was suddenly all over him. Louis didn't know what had hit him. Harry actually backed him up against the wall, his fingers digging into Louis' waist, trying to pull him closer . . . closer. Then he was ravishing his neck with a hungry mouth. Oh my God! It felt so good that Louis felt paralyzed, and all the blood was shooting directly to his dick.

At first Louis thought he was playing. "What're you onto, Styles?"

Harry seemed to deflate. His eyes went dull. He took two steps backward to give Louis room.

"Nothin,'" he murmured.

That was when Louis comprehended that Harry had been serious. Dead serious. Okay, so he'd fucked up again. And really badly this time, because Harry was vulnerable right now. He needed positive reinforcement considering Louis had been acting sulky and stroppy lately. Harry must feel really foolish.

"I thought . . . I thought you were foolin' 'round. I didn't realize—"

"Forget it. No big deal."

Harry hadn't been hooking Louis' ankle with his own when on the couch anymore, and also hadn't been cuddling up to him or asking for a "kissy."

The time had come to where Louis_ had_ to say something, so he decided to be as honest as he possibly could. "By the way, you really turned me on, in case you didn't know. And . . . I'm a sulkin' fool! I've been makin' you suffer, tellin' you nothin' was wrong, when there _was _sommat wrong."

Exhibiting a sudden spark of interest, Harry gazed at him, curiosity bright in those clear emerald eyes, yet he was still hesitant. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm not bein' fair. I told meself I'd never lie to you, and I haven't, but I haven't told you all the truth either. You see, Brooke's Uncle Phil made a remark about you and me when we were over there the day I fixed her computer."

Harry's jaw dropped. He waited for the rest of the story.

"That's why I went to bed early that night, and that's why I've been such a bastard. I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid it would cause trouble with Brooke and her uncle, and maybe our friendship with her."

"What kind of remark was it?"

Louis had been expecting Harry to ask, as Harry always wanted all the details.

"He said we were disgustin.'" He left it at that, but he could see the wheels turning in Harry's head.

"He saw me givin' you goo-goo eyes and kissin' your neck at the barbeque, I bet."

"Yeah, probably. But I was givin' you goo-goo eyes too, remember. I was afraid you'd try to take all the blame, and that's just what you're doin.' But Harry, I want to keep our friendship with Brooke and Aaron, and, most importantly, I want us to go back to how we were. Close on the couch, and 'kissy' and all."

"Me too," Harry looked melancholy and pained. "I really dig the affectionate shit."

Louis laughed. "Harry, you say the damndest things!"

"I'm glad you told me. I was thinkin' you were mad at me for sommat. That's why I decided to come on strong just now. I wanted to see if you'd respond."

Louis smiled. "And what I kept from you has been eatin' at me. I was just a little depressed about it."

Harry smiled, and in that moment, Louis knew things would be alright.

"Hey, I just remembered sommat. When we were walkin' dogs yesterday, and we saw Matilda's owner across the street, and we waved, remember? Well, I heard him talkin' to his new dog. Guess what his name is?" Harry loved asking Louis to make guesses about everything from which lemon in the grocery store was biggest, to how long it took each of them to take a shower or brush their teeth.

"I have no idea, Haz. Do you know how many hundreds of thousands of names there are? Why don't you just tell me?"

"Okay. It's Hector!" Harry was laughing so hard he was holding his stomach.

"Well, that _is _kinda goofy. But whatever makes him happy, I guess," Louis was trying to be logical and pragmatic about it, but he ended up laughing as well. He'd never known of a dog that was named Hector in his life.

"Of course, when you think about it, Horace was pretty goofy too."

"True, that." Harry almost spit as a fresh burst of laughter caught him by surprise. "You're so hot," this was totally unexpected coming from Harry after he'd caught his breath.

"What?"

"You're perfect. That's also why I couldn't help meself when we got home."

_Damn!_ Louis fully appreciated what he'd missed out on by misreading Harry.

"Let's try again then," he suggested.

Harry concentrated for a moment. "Nah, wouldn't be the same. The element of surprise, then the heat . . . well, you can't have a re-do and have it be authentic," sighed Harry. "Some other time maybe."

Harry was right. It just wouldn't be the same. But damn, was it disappointing. It had been so perfectly spontaneous. And so damn exciting. Made him wonder what Harry's plan had been. But the moment had passed, so Louis supposed he had to resign himself to having a cuddle-free night.

_Except in bed._

And that night, as luck would have it, Louis had a wet dream. He, of course, was spooning Harry and having a very sexy dream of the lad. Next thing he knew, he was coming hard and fast in the dream, and seconds later Harry yelped and was scooting away from him as if he'd been burned.

"Oh my God!" Louis cried, fighting off sleep, with embarrassment overtaking every and any other emotion.

Poor Harry was covered in it, and so were the sheets, along with Louis' belly.

Harry didn't, at first, know what had happened. All he knew was that he'd awakened to a cold, thick stickiness all over his backside. It had cooled rapidly in the cool night air with the windows wide open.

Louis was so humiliated that he couldn't even meet Harry's gaze.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, not even getting out of bed because Harry would see the ejaculate that had formed pools all over Louis' tee shirt and boxer briefs. It was unclear as to how it had also gotten on Harry, until Louis looked down, under the sheets and saw that it had come through one of the legs of his underwear.

They were frozen on the spot, Harry on the edge of the bed, and Louis in the exact same spot where the accident had happened.

Then Harry's shoulders started to shake as he hid his face in a pillow. At first, Louis actually thought he was crying._ Oh no! One more thing to add to his PTSD!_ But then, to his profound relief, he heard unmistakable giggles. So Louis' only option was to giggle too, and seconds later they were roaring with laughter, rolling around on the bed, making the mess even worse.

"Don't worry, Tommo. Happens to us all." And that was what pacified Louis completely. They were both grown men, after all, and these things do happen.

So they got out of bed and went into the bathroom separately to clean up and change their clothes. Then they stripped the sheets from the bed and put on new ones.

"And that sexy dream_ better_ have been about me!"

"Baby, of course it was. And some day I might tell you about it too!" promised Louis. He was so, so very grateful to Harry for not taunting him about it. He couldn't imagine Harry being that cruel, anyway.

A few days later, Harry's band mates came over for a few beers. Stewart, the bass player, had called and invited them out to a bar, since they really hadn't had a chance to get to know Louis very well. They were either busy at practice, or doing a show.

Louis thought it very thoughtful of them, and so he and Harry asked them, instead, to come to their apartment. Louis bought pizza for everyone. Immediately, Louis felt comfortable with them. Stewart and Nathan, the guitar player, were the most outgoing in the band. Nick, the drummer, and Harry were both on the quieter side. Except when Harry was performing, and that was when he really shone. Same with Nick. He was a bangin' drummer, and really gave it his all.

They sat around, shooting the shit, and Louis found that they really were funny guys. Every one of them was clever in his own way. As far as Louis could tell, they were all straight. Not that it mattered, because he only had eyes for Harry, but the beauty of it was that they accepted Harry and Louis as a couple, and that went a long way toward making Louis feel better about Brooke's uncle. For some reason it nagged at him more than he reckoned it should have.

Nathan and Stewart cracked jokes that really were funny, although some of them were dirty, and made Harry blush, but he gamely followed up with some knock-knock jokes, which the others were impressively tolerant of.

They had an awesome night, and were winding down when Harry asked if anyone wanted some hot cocoa. The others looked at Harry like he'd finally gone off the deep end.

"It's a thing with us, we pick it up regularly," explained Louis.

"Oh yeah, I know what you mean about Harry," commented Nathan. "He gets his mind on something, and it's like prying something out of a pit bull's jaws to get him off the subject."

Louis nodded sagely. "He's a determined one alright."

"So hot cocoa's a thing, huh?" asked Stewart.

"With us it is, or mainly with_ Harry_ it is."

"We have a dozen flavors," Harry remarked proudly. So everyone went into the kitchen to check out the various flavors and politely comment on them. No one, however, took Harry up on his offer for a cup. Harry looked a little disappointed.

"It's okay Haz. It's summertime, and it's warm, and most people want cold drinks, not sommat to make them feel hotter than they already do," said Louis gently. He hadn't touched Harry all night. He didn't want the other band members to feel awkward. But he was hoping that would change as soon as the others left.

Nick, in his quiet way, patted both Louis and Harry on the back and gave them one-armed hugs as they filed out of the apartment door. "Thanks for having us, man. And thanks for the pizza." The others chimed in then, raving about the pizza and the good company.

Once they left, Louis sighed deeply. "That felt good," he said to Harry.

"Yeah, it was nice."

"I'm so glad you left that other band. These guys are really good people."

"I told you they were! I'm glad they came over. Now you know them better."

Harry pulled a fast one on him then. Up again the wall again. Louis supposed Harry had had it all planned last time, and he didn't want to deviate from his original plan. And yes, it had been a good one, Louis had to admit. Had caught him completely off guard, and _twice _now.

Pushing him up hard against the wall, Harry began to devour his neck again. This time Louis moaned. "And _this_ feels even better," he remarked with a slightly husky voice that barely squeezed past his vocal cords.

The emotions were getting to him. Living with Harry was like rolling up and down an emotional hill constantly. It was good, but it was also trying. Guessing what Harry was wanting or needing was not the easiest task. Yet sometimes it came to him like instinct. But the wait was always worth it because when Harry cuddled with him, it was like a promise. A promise of what might develop sometime soon.

Harry was such a sentimental soul. He liked things just a certain way when it came to romance. His fingers trailed over Louis' back, and Louis openly shuddered. Didn't try to hide it because he wanted Haz to know just how he was feeling. He didn't want a single doubt in Harry's mind.

Harry had had a couple of beers, and that was probably giving him a little more courage than he normally possessed. That was okay—they had to start somewhere. And having Haz make the first move was bound to clear the way for Louis to take over later. But first, he had to make sure Harry was serious, and the only way to find that out was to let Harry have his way.

_Oh, the sacrifices! _ Sweet sacrifices.

Harry's warm breath ghosted on Louis' cheek now, after the sucking on his neck was completed. Louis was pretty sure he'd have a love mark there tomorrow. He didn't have a corporate job anymore, so he didn't care. Wait . . . he didn't care _period,_ because he wanted to show it off to the world.

_He belonged to Harry._

And if someone didn't like it, then screw them.

Across his cheek, and nearing his lips. Louis had never felt this kind of anticipation before with anyone except Harry. It was as if he was a school kid again, anticipating his first kiss. The suspense was so extreme. Every time Harry moved, every breath he took. Louis was leaning into it, craving just a little more, dying inside.

Harry finally reached his lips and began to nibble on them. Louis held his breath involuntarily, straining inwardly for Harry's next move. Harry began to suck his bottom lip now. Gently, but just hard enough to let Louis know he was earnest, committed. Committed to what? A kiss? Well, Louis could help with that.

The moment Harry kissed him fully on the lips, Louis cupped Harry's face in his hands, letting him know through his actions that he cherished him. The kiss was long, slow and had no agenda. It was just sweet—Louis letting Harry know he wouldn't ask for anything more if that was all Harry wanted.

But then Harry deepened the kiss. He opened his mouth, his tongue asking Louis to do the same.

_Gladly._

Louis' tongue grazed Harry's, and then he sucked it into his mouth. Harry's gasp of shock was so satisfying. Louis sucked softly, and then when Harry didn't object, gradually harder, sending a message to Harry. A message that Harry could take however he wanted to. He didn't know if he should be taking such liberties this early on, but Harry was responding positively, to say the least. Louis was also aware that, at any minute, Harry could draw back again as he had done before. He was strong—he could handle it.

Well, _maybe. _He'd be crushed, buthe'd have to accept it. It was the only way he could prove to Harry that the feelings were more important than taking this further.

Harry pulled back just as things were getting so steamy that Louis was surprised the windows weren't all fogged up. Well, that was Harry. He was precise, and he had to be confident he was doing the right thing. There couldn't be any doubts in his mind. Harry was just like that. Incredibly frustrating, but Louis knew that if he could win Harry over, he would stop this horrid tantalizing. Surprisingly, he found that he wasn't crushed.

"I wanna ask you sommat," Harry said.

Louis knew his cheeks were as red as tomatoes, and his breathing sounded like a train, so he turned sideways for a moment to pull himself together. He did notice Harry was also red all the way down his neck, and he sounded like he'd just finished a race.

"Go ahead," whined Louis. He hated the way his voice sounded. He was just so drained from all this unintentional teasing on Harry's part.

"Do you ever wanna, um, date other people?"

"_What?"_

"Do you ever wanna see other people?" Harry rephrased it.

"No, never." Louis spoke the truth. Harry was the only one who lit his fire. "Why do you ask a question like that?"

"Well . . . " Harry stubbed the toe of his boot into the carpet. "I know you have needs . . ."

"Haz, I don't _want _anyone else. It's just like, say, you had a medical condition of some sort where you couldn't ever have sex. It wouldn't be a deal breaker for me." `

Louis was iffy about having said the word "sex." They rarely mentioned it. It was a touchy subject. Harry was self-conscious about it because he was the one who avoided it like the plague.

"Seriously?" Harry looked like he'd been told he was suddenly rich as sin.

"Yes, seriously."

"How could you live like that?"

"It wouldn't be easy, but for _you_—and only you, I would do it. I wouldn't leave you or find someone on the side." Every word Louis spoke was the barest, most naked truth he'd ever uttered.

"You're a stone fox, Harry. Not easy to get. Sometimes elusive in a way. But if and when I _do_ get you, I'm not lettin' go."

"But you have me! It's just that I'm such a slow mover, and . . . I know you must be . . . horny a lot."

Louis laughed. "True Harry. I am. But if sommat or someone is worth waitin' for, I can be long-sufferin' and tolerant. Have you ever wanted complete trust in someone, and of someone?" asked Louis.

Harry was quick to answer. "Yes! It's the biggest turn-on in the world for me."

"For me too. And it has to be that way, or I won't lay a finger on you. Now that I know you need time, I intend to grant it."

"So you believe what I said at the therapist's office?" asked Harry.

Louis knew exactly what he was talking about. "Yes, I do."

"How'd you know what I was referrin' to?"

"Because I could tell it was important to you, as it is to me."

Harry was, of course, referring to telling the therapist he was in love with Louis.

"I was taken by surprise, and quite shocked, but I knew you were gettin' it all out there. No secrets."

Harry nodded eagerly.

The way he was looking expectantly at Louis made Louis feel tentative and hesitant.

Was Harry expecting him to say it back?

Holy fuck, he hadn't even slept with the guy yet! Sure, he was crazy about him and couldn't imagine spending his life with anyone else, but profess his love? He supposed it was petty, but it he felt it was imperative to know Harry in every way, including sexually, before he said something that profound. What if he and Harry weren't compatible sexually? They were in every other way, but he just couldn't break free of that nagging feeling that they hadn't been intimate, and Louis had always been under the impression that you told someone you loved them only _after_ you'd made love with them. Even so, it made him feel like a hypocrite after that earlier remark about it not mattering if Harry could have sex or not. All he could do was pray Harry would understand.

"Harry, I need to say sommat," he said. This conversation felt like a loaded cannon. He'd have to watch every word that came out of his mouth for fear Harry would get the wrong idea, and be hurt.

"It's just . . . I want to be sure. It's just not time yet . . . for me."


	31. Chapter 31

Yeah, they'd moved out of the friend-zone. But they were also at a stand-still. Kind of suspended in time. If Louis wanted to pursue this relationship with Harry, he'd have to somehow put aside his fears about the homophobes out there in the world. He knew one thing for sure—he wasn't willing to give Harry up.

Presently, Louis didn't know if he should put the moves on Harry, or leave him alone. How would he know when the time had come? Should he leave it all on Harry's shoulders?

Going to the gym regularly, Harry was looking even hotter than when Louis had met him. Just what he needed, more temptation. He knew he should compliment him, but how to put it without it sounding like a come-on?

It had to sound sincere to Harry's ears.

"You're really startin' to get some definition," he blurted one night as they were leaving the gym.

"I am?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

Well, that had gone real well. NOT. Harry clearly sensed there was still something wrong. That was why he was being so tight-lipped. Normally, this compliment would have delighted Harry. To be fair, Louis knew he should tell him about what Brooke's uncle had said, but just couldn't bring himself to do it.

When they walked in the apartment door, Harry was suddenly all over him. Louis didn't know what had hit him. Harry actually backed him up against the wall, his fingers digging into Louis' waist, trying to pull him closer . . . closer. Then he was ravishing his neck with a hungry mouth. Oh my God! It felt so good that Louis felt paralyzed, and all the blood was shooting directly to his dick.

At first Louis thought he was playing. "What're you onto, Styles?"

Harry seemed to deflate. His eyes went dull. He took two steps backward to give Louis room.

"Nothin,'" he murmured.

That was when Louis comprehended that Harry had been serious. Dead serious. Okay, so he'd fucked up again. And really badly this time, because Harry was vulnerable right now. He needed positive reinforcement considering Louis had been acting sulky and stroppy lately. Harry must feel really foolish.

"I thought . . . I thought you were foolin' 'round. I didn't realize—"

"Forget it. No big deal."

Harry hadn't been hooking Louis' ankle with his own when on the couch anymore, and also hadn't been cuddling up to him or asking for a "kissy."

The time had come to where Louis_ had_ to say something, so he decided to be as honest as he possibly could. "By the way, you really turned me on, in case you didn't know. And . . . I'm a sulkin' fool! I've been makin' you suffer, tellin' you nothin' was wrong, when there _was _sommat wrong."

Exhibiting a sudden spark of interest, Harry gazed at him, curiosity bright in those clear emerald eyes, yet he was still hesitant. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm not bein' fair. I told meself I'd never lie to you, and I haven't, but I haven't told you all the truth either. You see, Brooke's Uncle Phil made a remark about you and me when we were over there the day I fixed her computer."

Harry's jaw dropped. He waited for the rest of the story.

"That's why I went to bed early that night, and that's why I've been such a bastard. I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid it would cause trouble with Brooke and her uncle, and maybe our friendship with her."

"What kind of remark was it?"

Louis had been expecting Harry to ask, as Harry always wanted all the details.

"He said we were disgustin.'" He left it at that, but he could see the wheels turning in Harry's head.

"He saw me givin' you goo-goo eyes and kissin' your neck at the barbeque, I bet."

"Yeah, probably. But I was givin' you goo-goo eyes too, remember. I was afraid you'd try to take all the blame, and that's just what you're doin.' But Harry, I want to keep our friendship with Brooke and Aaron, and, most importantly, I want us to go back to how we were. Close on the couch, and 'kissy' and all."

"Me too," Harry looked melancholy and pained. "I really dig the affectionate shit."

Louis laughed. "Harry, you say the damndest things!"

"I'm glad you told me. I was thinkin' you were mad at me for sommat. That's why I decided to come on strong just now. I wanted to see if you'd respond."

Louis smiled. "And what I kept from you has been eatin' at me. I was just a little depressed about it."

Harry smiled, and in that moment, Louis knew things would be alright.

"Hey, I just remembered sommat. When we were walkin' dogs yesterday, and we saw Matilda's owner across the street, and we waved, remember? Well, I heard him talkin' to his new dog. Guess what his name is?" Harry loved asking Louis to make guesses about everything from which lemon in the grocery store was biggest, to how long it took each of them to take a shower or brush their teeth.

"I have no idea, Haz. Do you know how many hundreds of thousands of names there are? Why don't you just tell me?"

"Okay. It's Hector!" Harry was laughing so hard he was holding his stomach.

"Well, that _is _kinda goofy. But whatever makes him happy, I guess," Louis was trying to be logical and pragmatic about it, but he ended up laughing as well. He'd never known of a dog that was named Hector in his life.

"Of course, when you think about it, Horace was pretty goofy too."

"True, that." Harry almost spit as a fresh burst of laughter caught him by surprise. "You're so hot," this was totally unexpected coming from Harry after he'd caught his breath.

"What?"

"You're perfect. That's also why I couldn't help meself when we got home."

_Damn!_ Louis fully appreciated what he'd missed out on by misreading Harry.

"Let's try again then," he suggested.

Harry concentrated for a moment. "Nah, wouldn't be the same. The element of surprise, then the heat . . . well, you can't have a re-do and have it be authentic," sighed Harry. "Some other time maybe."

Harry was right. It just wouldn't be the same. But damn, was it disappointing. It had been so perfectly spontaneous. And so damn exciting. Made him wonder what Harry's plan had been. But the moment had passed, so Louis supposed he had to resign himself to having a cuddle-free night.

_Except in bed._

And that night, as luck would have it, Louis had a wet dream. He, of course, was spooning Harry and having a very sexy dream of the lad. Next thing he knew, he was coming hard and fast in the dream, and seconds later Harry yelped and was scooting away from him as if he'd been burned.

"Oh my God!" Louis cried, fighting off sleep, with embarrassment overtaking every and any other emotion.

Poor Harry was covered in it, and so were the sheets, along with Louis' belly.

Harry didn't, at first, know what had happened. All he knew was that he'd awakened to a cold, thick stickiness all over his backside. It had cooled rapidly in the cool night air with the windows wide open.

Louis was so humiliated that he couldn't even meet Harry's gaze.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, not even getting out of bed because Harry would see the ejaculate that had formed pools all over Louis' tee shirt and boxer briefs. It was unclear as to how it had also gotten on Harry, until Louis looked down, under the sheets and saw that it had come through one of the legs of his underwear.

They were frozen on the spot, Harry on the edge of the bed, and Louis in the exact same spot where the accident had happened.

Then Harry's shoulders started to shake as he hid his face in a pillow. At first, Louis actually thought he was crying._ Oh no! One more thing to add to his PTSD!_ But then, to his profound relief, he heard unmistakable giggles. So Louis' only option was to giggle too, and seconds later they were roaring with laughter, rolling around on the bed, making the mess even worse.

"Don't worry, Tommo. Happens to us all." And that was what pacified Louis completely. They were both grown men, after all, and these things do happen.

So they got out of bed and went into the bathroom separately to clean up and change their clothes. Then they stripped the sheets from the bed and put on new ones.

"And that sexy dream_ better_ have been about me!"

"Baby, of course it was. And some day I might tell you about it too!" promised Louis. He was so, so very grateful to Harry for not taunting him about it. He couldn't imagine Harry being that cruel, anyway.

A few days later, Harry's band mates came over for a few beers. Stewart, the bass player, had called and invited them out to a bar, since they really hadn't had a chance to get to know Louis very well. They were either busy at practice, or doing a show.

Louis thought it very thoughtful of them, and so he and Harry asked them, instead, to come to their apartment. Louis bought pizza for everyone. Immediately, Louis felt comfortable with them. Stewart and Nathan, the guitar player, were the most outgoing in the band. Nick, the drummer, and Harry were both on the quieter side. Except when Harry was performing, and that was when he really shone. Same with Nick. He was a bangin' drummer, and really gave it his all.

They sat around, shooting the shit, and Louis found that they really were funny guys. Every one of them was clever in his own way. As far as Louis could tell, they were all straight. Not that it mattered, because he only had eyes for Harry, but the beauty of it was that they accepted Harry and Louis as a couple, and that went a long way toward making Louis feel better about Brooke's uncle. For some reason it nagged at him more than he reckoned it should have.

Nathan and Stewart cracked jokes that really were funny, although some of them were dirty, and made Harry blush, but he gamely followed up with some knock-knock jokes, which the others were impressively tolerant of.

They had an awesome night, and were winding down when Harry asked if anyone wanted some hot cocoa. The others looked at Harry like he'd finally gone off the deep end.

"It's a thing with us, we pick it up regularly," explained Louis.

"Oh yeah, I know what you mean about Harry," commented Nathan. "He gets his mind on something, and it's like prying something out of a pit bull's jaws to get him off the subject."

Louis nodded sagely. "He's a determined one alright."

"So hot cocoa's a thing, huh?" asked Stewart.

"With us it is, or mainly with_ Harry_ it is."

"We have a dozen flavors," Harry remarked proudly. So everyone went into the kitchen to check out the various flavors and politely comment on them. No one, however, took Harry up on his offer for a cup. Harry looked a little disappointed.

"It's okay Haz. It's summertime, and it's warm, and most people want cold drinks, not sommat to make them feel hotter than they already do," said Louis gently. He hadn't touched Harry all night. He didn't want the other band members to feel awkward. But he was hoping that would change as soon as the others left.

Nick, in his quiet way, patted both Louis and Harry on the back and gave them one-armed hugs as they filed out of the apartment door. "Thanks for having us, man. And thanks for the pizza." The others chimed in then, raving about the pizza and the good company.

Once they left, Louis sighed deeply. "That felt good," he said to Harry.

"Yeah, it was nice."

"I'm so glad you left that other band. These guys are really good people."

"I told you they were! I'm glad they came over. Now you know them better."

Harry pulled a fast one on him then. Up again the wall again. Louis supposed Harry had had it all planned last time, and he didn't want to deviate from his original plan. And yes, it had been a good one, Louis had to admit. Had caught him completely off guard, and _twice _now.

Pushing him up hard against the wall, Harry began to devour his neck again. This time Louis moaned. "And _this_ feels even better," he remarked with a slightly husky voice that barely squeezed past his vocal cords.

The emotions were getting to him. Living with Harry was like rolling up and down an emotional hill constantly. It was good, but it was also trying. Guessing what Harry was wanting or needing was not the easiest task. Yet sometimes it came to him like instinct. But the wait was always worth it because when Harry cuddled with him, it was like a promise. A promise of what might develop sometime soon.

Harry was such a sentimental soul. He liked things just a certain way when it came to romance. His fingers trailed over Louis' back, and Louis openly shuddered. Didn't try to hide it because he wanted Haz to know just how he was feeling. He didn't want a single doubt in Harry's mind.

Harry had had a couple of beers, and that was probably giving him a little more courage than he normally possessed. That was okay—they had to start somewhere. And having Haz make the first move was bound to clear the way for Louis to take over later. But first, he had to make sure Harry was serious, and the only way to find that out was to let Harry have his way.

_Oh, the sacrifices! _ Sweet sacrifices.

Harry's warm breath ghosted on Louis' cheek now, after the sucking on his neck was completed. Louis was pretty sure he'd have a love mark there tomorrow. He didn't have a corporate job anymore, so he didn't care. Wait . . . he didn't care _period,_ because he wanted to show it off to the world.

_He belonged to Harry._

And if someone didn't like it, then screw them.

Across his cheek, and nearing his lips. Louis had never felt this kind of anticipation before with anyone except Harry. It was as if he was a school kid again, anticipating his first kiss. The suspense was so extreme. Every time Harry moved, every breath he took. Louis was leaning into it, craving just a little more, dying inside.

Harry finally reached his lips and began to nibble on them. Louis held his breath involuntarily, straining inwardly for Harry's next move. Harry began to suck his bottom lip now. Gently, but just hard enough to let Louis know he was earnest, committed. Committed to what? A kiss? Well, Louis could help with that.

The moment Harry kissed him fully on the lips, Louis cupped Harry's face in his hands, letting him know through his actions that he cherished him. The kiss was long, slow and had no agenda. It was just sweet—Louis letting Harry know he wouldn't ask for anything more if that was all Harry wanted.

But then Harry deepened the kiss. He opened his mouth, his tongue asking Louis to do the same.

_Gladly._

Louis' tongue grazed Harry's, and then he sucked it into his mouth. Harry's gasp of shock was so satisfying. Louis sucked softly, and then when Harry didn't object, gradually harder, sending a message to Harry. A message that Harry could take however he wanted to. He didn't know if he should be taking such liberties this early on, but Harry was responding positively, to say the least. Louis was also aware that, at any minute, Harry could draw back again as he had done before. He was strong—he could handle it.

Well, _maybe. _He'd be crushed, buthe'd have to accept it. It was the only way he could prove to Harry that the feelings were more important than taking this further.

Harry pulled back just as things were getting so steamy that Louis was surprised the windows weren't all fogged up. Well, that was Harry. He was precise, and he had to be confident he was doing the right thing. There couldn't be any doubts in his mind. Harry was just like that. Incredibly frustrating, but Louis knew that if he could win Harry over, he would stop this horrid tantalizing. Surprisingly, he found that he wasn't crushed.

"I wanna ask you sommat," Harry said.

Louis knew his cheeks were as red as tomatoes, and his breathing sounded like a train, so he turned sideways for a moment to pull himself together. He did notice Harry was also red all the way down his neck, and he sounded like he'd just finished a race.

"Go ahead," whined Louis. He hated the way his voice sounded. He was just so drained from all this unintentional teasing on Harry's part.

"Do you ever wanna, um, date other people?"

"_What?"_

"Do you ever wanna see other people?" Harry rephrased it.

"No, never." Louis spoke the truth. Harry was the only one who lit his fire. "Why do you ask a question like that?"

"Well . . . " Harry stubbed the toe of his boot into the carpet. "I know you have needs . . ."

"Haz, I don't _want _anyone else. It's just like, say, you had a medical condition of some sort where you couldn't ever have sex. It wouldn't be a deal breaker for me." `

Louis was iffy about having said the word "sex." They rarely mentioned it. It was a touchy subject. Harry was self-conscious about it because he was the one who avoided it like the plague.

"Seriously?" Harry looked like he'd been told he was suddenly rich as sin.

"Yes, seriously."

"How could you live like that?"

"It wouldn't be easy, but for _you_—and only you, I would do it. I wouldn't leave you or find someone on the side." Every word Louis spoke was the barest, most naked truth he'd ever uttered.

"You're a stone fox, Harry. Not easy to get. Sometimes elusive in a way. But if and when I _do_ get you, I'm not lettin' go."

"But you have me! It's just that I'm such a slow mover, and . . . I know you must be . . . horny a lot."

Louis laughed. "True Harry. I am. But if sommat or someone is worth waitin' for, I can be long-sufferin' and tolerant. Have you ever wanted complete trust in someone, and of someone?" asked Louis.

Harry was quick to answer. "Yes! It's the biggest turn-on in the world for me."

"For me too. And it has to be that way, or I won't lay a finger on you. Now that I know you need time, I intend to grant it."

"So you believe what I said at the therapist's office?" asked Harry.

Louis knew exactly what he was talking about. "Yes, I do."

"How'd you know what I was referrin' to?"

"Because I could tell it was important to you, as it is to me."

Harry was, of course, referring to telling the therapist he was in love with Louis.

"I was taken by surprise, and quite shocked, but I knew you were gettin' it all out there. No secrets."

Harry nodded eagerly.

The way he was looking expectantly at Louis made Louis feel tentative and hesitant.

Was Harry expecting him to say it back?

Holy fuck, he hadn't even slept with the guy yet! Sure, he was crazy about him and couldn't imagine spending his life with anyone else, but profess his love? He supposed it was petty, but it he felt it was imperative to know Harry in every way, including sexually, before he said something that profound. What if he and Harry weren't compatible sexually? They were in every other way, but he just couldn't break free of that nagging feeling that they hadn't been intimate, and Louis had always been under the impression that you told someone you loved them only _after_ you'd made love with them. Even so, it made him feel like a hypocrite after that earlier remark about it not mattering if Harry could have sex or not. All he could do was pray Harry would understand.

"Harry, I need to say sommat," he said. This conversation felt like a loaded cannon. He'd have to watch every word that came out of his mouth for fear Harry would get the wrong idea, and be hurt.

"It's just . . . I want to be sure. It's just not time yet . . . for me."


	32. Chapter 32

"S'okay," Harry said quickly. "I know I said it too soon, and I don't expect, or _want_ you to say sommat when you're not ready. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. And I guess I was curious to see what you thought of me confession."

Now Louis knew for sure he didn't dare try to start the cozy stuff again. It would feel to Harry like he was being used. Tell someone you're in love with them, and they don't say it back, and then they expect something physical. Not cool.

_No way._ Louis cared too much for Harry to even hint that he wanted to continue their earlier kanoodling. Which really made things awkward.

They were still standing there at the wall that Harry had pushed him up against. How should he act? Like nothing had happened? Or apologize? And if he apologized, it would sound not only goofy, but cruel.

_I'm sorry I can't say I love you back?_

No, he couldn't do it. Even though he'd said basically the same thing, just phrased a little differently.

So instead, Louis said, "I think what you said to me is wonderful, and I'm glad you're man enough to say it, and that you really mean it. I feel massively complimented."

He sighed hard and heavy. This wasn't going at all like it should. It sounded like he was trying to appease Harry. And that was anything but the truth.

"Let's go to the mountains sometime soon!" Harry said abruptly, and Louis knew he was trying to lift his spirits. He must know how torn Louis felt. Feeling that he _should_ say he loved him, but not being absolutely certain, and therefore, choosing to wait. Louis felt like the most rotten person alive.

But he bucked up and answered. "Brilliant! We can go tomorrow if you want—right after we walk the dogs. We'll still have plenty of daylight left."

It didn't get dark until seventy-thirty now, and they'd be done walking dogs by noon or one at the latest.

"I'll get us a picnic lunch started!" Harry scampered into the kitchen, busily making sandwiches and putting chips into baggies. He grabbed a couple of tangerines too.

"On the way, we can stop and get those brownies you like so much!" he looked so proud of himself, making Louis feel ashamed.

"This isn't one-sided, Haz!" Louis was almost in a panic, and he couldn't help letting the words out. "I feel so _strongly_ for you—you just don't know."

"Lou," Harry took Louis' face between cupped hands. "I don't want you sayin' sommat until you are truly ready." He said it with so much conviction. "And don't you know that I can_ feel_ how you feel about me?"

That helped a little. In fact, a lot. Harry's sincere endorsement allowed Louis to stick to his guns and not spew something out of his mouth until he felt it was time.

Sitting on a big rock at the creek at Mt. Baldy, an hour's drive from Hollywood, they just enjoyed the day for a while. They took off their shoes and socks and dangled their ankles in the water, which was almost shockingly cold in the ninety degree weather.

The slight breeze blew Harry's hair around, and Louis couldn't stop looking at it lifting gently from his neck and winding around his throat. Harry's candor was arresting as he talked about everything from feeling free and easy in this mountain atmosphere to getting ideas from Louis for a song he was currently writing.

"This creek, the running water, the birds making a cacophony of sounds inspires me."

"Cacophony? Really?" Louis smiled benevolently so Harry wouldn't think he was mocking him.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Cacophony means harsh and discordant sounds. These birds sound quite harmonious to me."

Harry wrestled with that thought for a moment or two. "So if I want to, say, um, write about us sitting here at the creek, how would I describe the sounds of the rushing water and the birds?"

"Harry, you don't give yourself enough credit. You've been writing beautiful songs for the band, with beautiful lyrics."

"But describing the birds' songs as harmonious sounds too trite . . . too stereotypical."

"I agree. Then find a better word," Louis encouraged. He wasn't offended at all because Harry was right.

"Melodic? Lyrical?" Harry said after a couple of minutes in introspection.

"Now you're gettin' somewhere!" Louis was proud of him. Harry would have had to build quite a vocabulary considering all the songs he'd already written. So he'd known without a doubt that Harry could find a word or words that fit the situation, or in this case, the_ sound._

Harry looked pleased as punch. "Well, I may just write a song about this sometime," announced.

Louis wished he was better with words, although his vocabulary was nothing to sneeze at, being employed among all the super intelligent fellow employees he'd once worked and mingled with.

It would be nice, however, to have at his fingertips a lot of different euphemisms to use with Harry because he didn't want to sound crude and unromantic.

Maybe he'd make a point of it to do some vocabulary expanding when Harry was writing songs at night, in between the gym, Harry's practices and shows, and the telly. They sure had an active way of life. Sometimes, in fact, oftentimes, he wanted to just do nothing but sit there and stare at Harry. And, of course, cuddle.

"It's so peaceful here. I would think it would be great song material."

"I could call it sittin' on a rock at the creek," Harry's eyes glimmered mint green in the bright shade.

"Sounds a little country Western to me," joked Louis.

"It does, that."

It was nice to enjoy the tranquility of no barking dogs, traffic, or disgruntled customers. They didn't get them often, but when they did . . . oh boy. Some people expected their dogs to be walked for practically free, and if there was inclement weather, they all but accused Harry and Louis of being responsible for it. With these types of people, everything seemed to be the dog walker's fault.

But right now was pure serenity, with no one but the two of them in the vicinity. They could hear people further down the creek, but this was a weekday, so there were no screaming kids. School would be let out soon though, so Louis was glad they'd come today. Otherwise, it would be easy to let responsibilities and everyday life keep them away and they'd have missed this opportunity to enjoy this perfect, cloudless lazy California day spent in the mountains.

"What you say we strip to our underwear and get wet?" he asked, cursing himself the moment the words were out.

But Harry's response was positive. "Sure would feel good."

There wasn't much space for swimming, as large rocks were all around, as well as small rocks. But the water was a good four feet deep, and the area they'd picked was maybe ten feet long and five feet wide. Plenty of room to splash around and cool off.

Louis stripped off his clothes first, and was glad he'd opted for underwear today, hoping they might go into the water. He slipped down into the water, gasping at the icy coldness of it. Harry followed shortly. They got accustomed to the temperature fairly quickly. The water was so clear and clean that they could see to the bottom.

About half an hour later, Harry came up from swimming under the water, his hair completely plastered to his face, and Louis laughed. It took a bit of doing for Harry to smooth it back, his fingers combing through it to keep it from tangling hopelessly. His crowning glory was so thick. And it amazed Louis that the waves were still in it, even soaking wet.

The staring came out of nowhere. Suddenly, their eyes were locked, and it felt like Harry's heart was going to shrivel up and wilt away, or maybe explode as it skipped beats with the intensity of Louis' bright blue stare. He held his hands out to Louis. He wasn't sure why he did it, but he suddenly needed Louis' touch like he needed air.

"Cold, innit?" he asked, trying to fill the silence.

Louis shook his head. "Not anymore. Not with you in here."

Louis didn't reel him in. He just waited to see why Harry had gestured that he wanted to hold his hands. He had to play his cards right.

"I'm ramped up," Harry confessed. "So excited about writin' songs, singin.' And bein' here with you. Life is the dope."

Harry began to pull on Louis' hands. Wordlessly, Louis yielded to the pressure. He felt he was going to fall apart when Harry pulled him even closer. The suspense . . .

"Maybe I shouldn't do this here?" asked Harry.

"Rubbish. No kids here, and only a few people a hundred yards away. Besides, all these trees . . ." Louis didn't know how to accomplish an answer to the question without it sounding like he was suggesting something.

"Then we can kiss," and with that, Harry yanked Louis the final few inches and placed his cold lips on Louis' own.

Louis was hungry—Harry picked up on it instantaneously.

_Hungry for him._

His eyes were dilated, his nostrils flared with greater oxygen intake. Louis closed his eyes, and so did Harry. Their lips began to move against each other. Louis movements were a little on the desperate side. Every sensation was acute. Harry felt the energy zipping through them, casting back and forth, and it turned him on. Amazing how much you could absorb from just hands and lips meeting when you really,_ really_ cared about someone.

Louis wouldn't hurt him. Yet Harry still felt kind of spooked. Why was he putting intimacy off? The therapist had said they'd work it out themselves. So why didn't he just let himself go, and live in the moment?

He decided to do just that.

The warmth encircled and settled upon him, like a misty fog. Everything seemed at a distance. Even the voices of the other people not that terribly far away didn't daunt him. Louis' lips devouring his own was all he could taste, feel and hear; the soft sound of Louis' fervid manipulation of his lips against his own finely tuned Harry's senses until he was buzzing with it.

His hands went around Louis' waist, his fingernails skating up and down his spine, and feeling Louis shiver made him feel powerful. He could reduce this tough, raw, self-governing man to moans of pleasure.

As their mouths mated, Harry grew impatient. He sucked at Louis' tongue, something that Louis had only done to him before. Louis was shell shocked, but in the best way, and Harry could feel it. It connoted a special closeness that neither one of them could argue with. It was truth—not spoken, but sensed. It was perceived the same way by the both of them.

They needed each other, longed for each other. Kissing was wonderful, and Harry could do it for hours with Louis. But it was becoming _not enough._ Maybe too much and not enough at the same time. He wanted to show his love for Louis in other ways too. And he wanted Louis to do the same.

"You're passionate . . . so passionate," Louis chanted. It was wondrous. He knew Harry was going to be an outlandish lover—in the best possible way. The way the lad clutched at him, grabbed his hair, whimpered against his mouth.

They submersed themselves in the water, knees bent because the water was shallow, and kissed again. It felt even more intimate because they couldn't breathe. It only lasted twenty seconds or so, and when they surfaced, they kissed again, but this time Louis changed the format. He made it clear to Harry that the sensations, while deliciously wild, could also be unhurried and deliberate.

Coaxing Harry to open for him, he explored the inside of Harry's mouth more thoroughly than ever before. Their tongues didn't lash, but curled around each other, as if they were embracing. It was gentle and it was tender. It was liberating, and Harry felt bold. Louis had set him free, and he felt as if he could do no wrong. This had been Louis' exact intent. To put Harry completely at ease. To let him express himself.

Louis could feel Harry's neediness. He was so close to him, yet still out of his reach. One wrong move . . . he had to stop fretting over what ifs.

"When you're onstage . . . sommat happens to me," Louis began to talk—more to keep himself from ravishing Harry than anything else.

Harry had a dazed look, almost as if he was drugged. The sexual tension was affecting him. The cool water, the almost-naked feel of their wet underwear, their hands touching bare skin, and the kissing also made Harry hazy to Louis' eyes. He could hardly focus. Need and desire were influencing what was once innocent intentions.

"It does?" Harry asked, barely able to reply. He gasped when Louis' hand brushed his lower back again after Louis discreetly adjusted his own underwear.

He was so responsive!

"Yeah, I got so turned on. You're so hot. So in command. I wanted to jump up on that stage and . . . I don't know what, exactly."

"The music really moves me. But not even a fraction of how _you_ move me," Harry answered.

Louis' world, after he had gotten into finance, had been pretty much black and white. He had been a normal kid, albeit with mandatory street-smarts, and had had a good childhood with loving parents. But he'd had to grow up fast.

Then Harry had come along, bringing all the colors of the rainbow with him. He was a kaleidoscope that was constantly changing, but they were always pleasant colors. Nothing dark or brooding. He had brought a revitalizing alteration to Louis' life. Harry had caused Louis to reexamine every facet of his existence.

Happiness—that was the main component Harry had gifted to Louis. His positive outlook and giddiness with life reminded Louis that he hadn't lost his inner child. Harry had given it back.

He didn't want to lose what they had. But looking at Harry right now with those heavy lidded eyes enticed Louis—made him want to experience more. He wanted to see what Harry looked like when he came, how he sounded. He wanted to know it all. He wanted love from Harry, and he wanted intimacy.

Harry's fingers played with the stubble on Louis' masculine face. The man was so classically handsome, but Harry didn't think Louis was aware of it. That only made Harry's excitement escalate. He had a strong build that Harry appreciated. Solid. Muscles were fine, but Louis hadn't overdone it. He was perfect in Harry's assessment. Louis had more of an athlete's body than a weight lifter. Those legs and bum of steel! He wanted to bite those hard thighs, and then do the same to his bum. Wait, where had that come from? He'd never wanted to do that with any other guy.

He knew Louis had been with lots of men, and it pained him to think of how meaningless it must have felt to Louis. He had to have been lonely before they'd met, although he didn't actually say it in so many words. He had always come home to an empty apartment, without even a dog to greet him. Louis was now often jovial where Harry suspected he hadn't been before. He had his moods, but Harry could see a steady change in his temperament.

Their bodies were pressed against each other. "Closer," whispered Louis so that Harry had to strain to hear him over the rush of the water.

A ripple of arousal hit Harry hard. Just that one word . . .

How could they possibly be closer? Harry found out it was indeed possible. Louis' hand pressed his lower back firmly, and Harry could then feel every curve and pulse of Louis' cock against his own. It couldn't possibly get any better than this. Kissing wildly, wantonly, then sweetly, a mere suggestion of tongue to spice it up just enough to make Harry want to scream in frustration.

In between all this, Louis made growling sounds, primal groans, and was coaxing Harry to be vocal as well. And it made the experience that much more of a question mark. Harry could hardly catch his breath.

Was Louis trying to seduce him? Or was he wanting Harry to participate more so he could be sure of Harry's feelings? Harry wanted to help him, but he was so caught up, so into it that he could hardly think straight.

Louis thought of tasting him, and that was what did him in. He had to stop, or he'd end up doing something indecent in this small body of water with people not far away, who could decide to walk this way at any time.

"We have to go back home, Haz." But they should at least eat their lunch first, Louis reasoned. Louis couldn't deny Harry that. Like magnets, they were. Pulling apart from each other was like fighting a force of nature. They got back on the rock, both with erections that they ignored, and ate their sandwiches, Harry regularly licking his lips, and making sure Louis noticed.

"I've created a monster!" cried Louis.

"How so?"

"You keep lickin' your lips in that sexy way. Ever since you ate that ice cream cone in front of me for the first time, it's as if you realized that was a weakness of mine—watchin' those full, pink, pouty lips and that sweet tongue runnin' over them is goin' to be the death of me!" Louis clutched his heart and acted dramatic, making Harry laugh, but he doubted Harry knew just how it hit him in such a basic way.

"I'm sorry we can't stay longer," Louis lamented.

"We still can. Can't we? Just an hour?" The sweet way Harry inquired made it impossible to dismiss.

"Wait a minute—let me overthink that," Louis responded, getting another giggle out of Harry. "Want to make a public scene?"

"Well, I reckon if someone saw us kissin' and . . . stuff, they'd get embarrassed and silently slip away, yeah?"

"Some people, yeah. _Most_ people, in fact. But what if there's a homophobe around?" There went Louis again, thinking about Brooke's uncle. "Someone might start sommat."

And what was the_ and . . . stuff _that Harry had hinted about?

Kissing and . . . _stuff,_ he'd said. Louis would kill right about now to know what _and stuff_ meant. It had Louis intrigued and his interest piqued.

After finishing their picnic, it was back into the water again, with Harry being merciless with the flirting. He just never stopped. Louis didn't know if he'd decided it was time for . . . whatever, or if he was just laying on the torture again.

Louis swam a short distance—because there wasn't that much room to swim anyway, and came up right in front of Harry, who smiled big at him, giving him some full-on dimples that made it hard to breathe.

Louis, who had been doing a phenomenal job of keeping his cool, was rapidly losing it. He was no saint, and this beautiful lad, who was the essence of his dreams, the only one he looked twice at, was giving him that come-on look.

How Louis wished they were at home, where he could at least try to ferret out what Harry was on to. Out here, in public, he felt like he was under a microscope. Anyone could be looking.

And if they were to get carried away, Louis would have to put a halt to it, and that would surely put a damper on their pending love life. This, today, proved that you never knew what Harry might do. He was unpredictable. After all, he wasn't black and white like Louis.

_Oh Harry._ At home this would be a different kettle of fish. If they got too spellbound, they would at least be behind closed doors. Harry was more eager than Louis had ever seen him, and despite being here, in the open, was showing quite a lack of inhibition. Louis didn't want to take advantage of Harry. But he also wondered how Harry would take being rejected. It couldn't possibly be good. Not after it took this long for him to gain Harry's complete trust. Here, they could even conceivably be arrested. Talk about frustration.


	33. Chapter 33

As gently as he could, Louis tried to explain why getting up close and personal here at the creek in the mountains was not the best idea. Louis was meanwhile thinking to himself that nowhere but at home would do, as Harry needed extra attention and loving, considering his past. Louis didn't want to be distracted by anything else.

In the future, after they were confident in each other sexually, Louis wouldn't mind it at all if they practiced a little bit of risky sex. Louis, in fact, had been known to fantasize about both exhibitionism and voyeurism. But he also knew you had to be very careful in public or semi-public, and Harry had his mind on one thing only-and that was Louis.

Yep, good way to get arrested. That would be nothing but more trauma for Harry, and they didn't need that. They had to exercise a little prudence. He could see a carefree Harry getting them into all sorts of trouble by letting his desire rule him. The no-restraints way Harry kissed him was very telling. His hunch about Harry being potentially very free-spirited was almost certainly accurate. He made Louis' mind churn with endless possibilities.

It made him sweat with the thought of some of the things they could do-discreetly, and not so discreetly. Harry's kisses had staggered him. They were astonishingly sensual. Before, he would have bet his bottom dollar that Harry would be inhibited and shy, but those kisses told him a different story. Harry had a massive amount of lust bundled up inside him. It almost blinded Louis with want, with need. Because Louis was the same way. The exact same way.

Louis got through to Harry with no hard feelings or grudges. Harry's face was an open book, and Louis could tell he got it.

After kissing for most of the next hour, and getting so amorous that they could hardly see straight, they packed up and headed home. Louis didn't know Harry had more he wanted to talk about and discover about Louis until later that night.

After dinner, they stood side by side washing and drying dishes, Louis trying to ignore his lingering wanton feelings.

"That chicken marsala was scrumptious," declared Louis.

"Thank you. I love chicken, and when I found out you did too, I was even more excited about cookin' for you."

Later, sitting on the couch, ankles entwined, and Harry leaning into him heavily, Louis felt quite satisfied and peacefully content.

"Do you mind tellin' me about how you met guys before me?" asked Harry out of the blue. Well, that was called getting right to the point! Just another of Harry's charms.

"Oh, mostly randomly. Grocery store, gas station, post office, a few times in a gay bar—things like that."

Harry was right on that like a dog on a bone. "Gay bars? You went to them?" he asked, clearly infatuated.

"Yeah."

"What's it like, a gay bar?"

"Harold, are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Sure. Tell me all about it."

"Well, it's a bar only for gay guys—the kind I used to go to now and then. No girls, just guys. It's a very different atmosphere, hard to describe. Jam packed with guys on the make. And they're pretty aggressive. You have to be on your toes."

"I've never been anywhere like that," Harry's creased brow said he was pondering it.

"Curious, are you?"

"Well . . . yeah, kinda. Would you take me to one sometime?"

Now_ this_ Louis hadn't expected at all. Not from Harry. He frankly didn't know how to answer.

"Well . . . sure. If you're certain you want to. But like I said, we'll have to be careful."

"What do they do? Try to rape you or sommat?" Harry suddenly looked a little less eager.

"No, not in the bar, but they are persistent—to say the least. If they get you outside . . . now that could be a different story." Louis let himself consider the situation. The guys would be all over Harry. He'd have endless offers. Louis would have to make it very clear that Harry was with him, and absolutely not allow anyone to get Harry away from him. Not that Harry would want to, because Louis knew he wouldn't. But some of those guys were very clever, and Harry was certainly worth risking your neck for. Louis could just see it in his mind. It got him a little on edge too.

"Do you know of any 'round here?" asked Harry.

Louis laughed. "In Hollywood, they're all over the place. Sometimes you can't tell from the outside—maybe that's why you haven't noticed any of those bars."

"You'd really take me?" Louis was trying to figure out why Harry was so inquisitive about it. But then, Harry was curious about most things. He had to know about everything, it seemed. Like a newborn that discovers it can see and hear. Next thing you knew, it wanted to see and hear everything around it. That was Harry.

"It might be too much for you, Haz. Might kinda . . . shock you."

"That's okay. We could always leave. But I'd be with you . . . "

"That's true. But you'd still see things . . . you might not want to see."

"But you're sure they don't have sex in the bar?"

"Um, not really. But then, kinda. They get pretty close—like we got in the creek today. And of course, a lot of them go into the loo . . ." he let his voice trail off so Harry would hopefully get the idea.

"Oh!" Harry's green eyes were bright and wide.

"But I'd be safe with you, yeah?"

Louis was really ambivalent about this taking Harry to a gay bar. It might bring back bad memories for him, or it might just outright horrify him. He felt it was too much of a gamble for Harry's sanity. So he was glad when Harry seemed to close the discussion with an offer of some hot cocoa.

Louis smiled. "Harry, the first day of summer will be here in about two weeks. It's been in the eighties and nineties. I don't fancy hot cocoa except when the weather is cool or cold."

How many times had he said this to Harry? But Harry was aware of how he felt—he was just being polite by offering some to Louis when he decided to have some himself.

"Wanna share a marshmallow?" Came Harry's muffled voice from the kitchen.

Well, Louis didn't know if this was good or bad. Would he be painfully aroused just to have to go to bed and tough it out, or take care of himself in the shower? Or would Harry choose tonight to take it a little further? He tried not to dwell on it. It was not the most important aspect of their relationship. Communication, affection and closeness was. Still, desire was pressing him hard.

"Sure, why not?" he answered.

It led to what seemed to be hours of kissing after the marshmallow was long gone. Louis wanted to recline on the couch, but was leery. They would surely end up rubbing against each other, and he didn't want to get them both all fired up, probably for nothing.

The kissing had almost as intense an effect on him. Hell, just sitting next to Harry was sexually stimulating. The physical touch of Harry's ankle and leg on his own was as arousing and stimulating as if they were naked together in bed. There was just no getting away from it.

Two weeks later, Harry pulled a fast one on him. Just as they were finishing up putting groceries away—and shopping was always an equally enjoyable and brutal experience with Harry—the curly haired handsome devil decided to ask about a gay club again. Just when Louis was almost convinced he'd forgotten all about it.

"Hey Lou, are you still gonna take me to a gay nightclub?"

Louis froze on the spot, tucking the package of paper towels he was holding into the cabinet. Well, he had to answer.

"So you are really serious about that, then."

"Yes, I am. I'm, um, curious. Can we go tonight?" It was a Saturday, and there was no dog-walking tomorrow. _Tonight?_ Well, now Harry had him in a bind. Did Harry know what he was getting into? Did he have even a minimal clue? Louis really doubted it.

"Okay, well, let me explain. It's dark in the clubs, and people aren't discreet, and the music's loud, and—"

"That's okay," Harry said simply, as if it was going to be a trip to Disneyland or something. There was no way Louis was going to be able to prepare Harry for this, and he could tell by the set of Harry's jaw that he was determined to do it. So Louis mentally threw up his hands. Harry would just have to witness it for himself.

So, after deciding which one he should take Harry to, they got showered and dressed. Louis had almost called Dr. Meeks to ask for his advice, but in the end had decided to just wing it.

As they got out of the Mustang, Louis took a deep, cleansing breath. He'd warned Harry that it was necessary for him to act very possessive, or else someone would surely try to claim Harry. He doubted Harry realized how essential it was that he stay glued to Louis' side, and that filled him with disconcertment.

"I won't take you in there unless you stay as close to me as you can the entire time. Preferably always touching."

"Yeah, okay," Harry was checking out the outside of the building, and Louis got the idea he wasn't taking it nearly as seriously as the impression Louis had tried to make.

As they walked in the door, the music blared so loudly that Harry was taken aback. But that wasn't the half of it. Neon lights adorned the ceiling, a crystal-looking, glittery ball spun too, like in the days of disco, and even so, it was _dark_ in here! You could see people's faces, but it was very obvious this place was designed for secrecy and intimacy. It encouraged the kind of behavior that was taking place right before his eyes.

Out on the dance floor, guys danced with each other, many with unbuttoned shirts, and just as many were even shirtless. They were all over each other, grinding against each other, shocking Harry right down to his toes. He felt Louis' eyes on him, felt Louis' arm around his waist, holding him securely to his side.

It didn't take long for guys to notice Harry. In fact, only seconds. They approached boldly, as Louis had known they would. They gave Harry come-on smiles and whistles. They even asked him to dance as he stood there plastered to Louis, with Louis' hand never loosening its secure grip on his waist.

Harry was overwhelmed at first, his head jerking back and forth, trying to see everything at once. This place had sex written all over it. Now he understood why Louis had been so adamant about him understanding the gravity of coming to a club like this.

"Want a drink?" asked Louis, having to practically yell into Harry's ear to be heard.

"Um . . . I guess," Harry's voice was timid and weak.

"What do you want?"

"A beer, I guess."

Louis pulled Harry with him to the bar and got them a couple of beers. While they were waiting for the bartender to pour it, a guy was leering at Harry, his face mere inches away. Creeped out, Harry drew ever closer to Louis, even though he was already pressed against him with the entire left side of his body. This caused Louis to be forced to take a step to the left, but Louis saw immediately how uncomfortable Harry was, and he stared the guy down, causing him to reluctantly slink away.

Guy after guy tried to put the make on Harry, and some of them on Louis too. Louis knew how to handle it though; Harry did not. They smiled, they made lewd gestures, they even purposely brushed up against Harry.

Louis had known that with Harry's uncommonly good looks and boyish, innocent face, not to mention his curls and dimples, he would cause a stir, but it was even worse than he'd predicted. The sexual tension ran high among those gawking at Harry, the fear emanating from Harry was palpable, and the grim conviction coming from Louis to keep Harry to himself made for a myriad of emotions flying in all directions.

As they drank their beers at a table, Louis encouraged Harry to kiss him to discourage some of the attention. Having never kissed Louis in a public place before where people were actively watching them, Harry was hesitant, but he followed Louis' lead, and they kissed passionately, successfully deterring a dozen or so men.

But it wasn't enough. There were still plenty of guys who wanted a piece of Harry, and _bad._ It seemed they would stop at nothing. They asked Harry if his relationship with Louis was serious, and if he'd consider letting them buy him a drink. And they did this right in front of Louis. Some just came right out and asked Harry if the two of them would like to join them for a threesome.

Harry was polite, as always. He explained he and Louis were serious and exclusive, and that he wasn't interested. Louis was proud of him for speaking up instead of lowering his head as a means of escape under the incredible pressure.

When they'd finished their beers, Louis asked Harry to dance.

"It's okay, babe. On the dance floor, the couples are all into each other. We shouldn't be bothered there nearly as much."

Louis would have suggested they leave if Harry felt uncomfortable, but he didn't want to appear bossy. He wanted Harry to decide when they would leave.

Harry tentatively accepted his offer to dance. It was a slow song, as were many of them, meant to embolden the patrons to get about as intimate as you can on a dance floor. Some of the things Harry witnessed, he could hardly believe. He saw hands running all over bodies; one guy with his hand down another one's pants as they danced up close. There were some very feminine guys there too, make-up, glittery clothes and all. The grinding seemed to be universal. Nearly everyone was doing it. He didn't see a whole lot of romance, but he did see a tremendous amount of grabbing of bums and dirty dancing.

He and Louis were chest to chest, Louis coaxing Harry to hook his arms around his neck while Louis kept his arms wrapped around Harry's waist. It was closer to the way everyone danced here, and anything else would look extremely awkward and dorky. They would be picked on, teased, if they didn't dance up very close like everyone else, and Harry would seem like fair game. That didn't mean they had to grind though, and Louis didn't touch Harry inappropriately at all. He did, however, enjoy the contact very much.

That hot, fluttery feeling was growing in Harry's belly. The arousal was strong. Since they were in contact from their chests to their crotches, Harry could feel Louis' erection against his own. Tingles skittered here and there, overtaking his body. He was really turned on, right here, in a gay bar, on the dance floor. But the main component, the _only_ component where he was concerned was Louis. He'd never get anywhere near a place like this without Louis.

"You're so sexy," Louis said into his ear as he nibbled up and down Harry's neck, from his earlobe to the top of his shoulder. Harry felt goose flesh rising, the gentle heat of Louis' breath on his skin only building his desire. A desire that flamed hot and searing.

Louis was just as aroused as Harry. He was thrilled about being able to kiss and touch Harry without worrying about who saw. He'd invited Harry to the dance floor because he'd sensed Harry was getting more than a little tense with all the unwanted attention he was getting. Louis knew dancing would isolate them somewhat from other people, leaving them free to pour all their attention on each other.

Louis wanted to be soft and loving, and seeing that dancing this close might elicit some special private time between them, he hoped it would also encourage a deeper affection as well.

The undulating, gyrating bodies all around them, as the night wore on, were affecting Harry. Louis saw that Harry's pupils were blown, the atmosphere making him thirsty for Louis. There were a few people on the sidelines, out of the general flow of foot traffic, engaged in intimate touching, and this only heightened Harry's awareness of how close he and Louis were physically.

All they'd had was that one beer, and although Louis asked Harry several times if he wanted another, Harry refused. "I want to enjoy this time with you without alcohol foggin' me brain," was his answer.

Louis wasn't sure how many songs they'd danced to, but it had been two hours since they'd gotten here, and the vibe he was getting from Harry was getting more extreme all the time. Harry was clinging to him like a monkey, except that his legs weren't wrapped around him, and they were kissing every couple of minutes, barely moving on the dance floor. Just getting lost in each other.

Finally, Harry whispered in his ear. "Lou, can we go home now?"

Relieved, Louis took him by the hand and led him off the dance floor. Of course, as soon as they stepped back into the crowd, they heard comments made.

"Hey, cutie. Wanna dance with me now?"

"You're devastating, and I'd like to devastate_ you_ in a real good way."

One guy even tried to pull Harry away from Louis, which was met with an elbow jab from Harry and Louis swinging his body in front of Harry and claiming him by shoving the guy so roughly that the guy nearly fell.

When they got to the parking lot safely, Harry was quivering. Louis imagined he was pretty shook up, not knowing how to handle himself when people got overly aggressive.

"I'm sorry, Haz. Probably shouldn't have taken you there. But believe it or not, that is one of the milder clubs. Some are much rougher. They'll practically rape you when you walk in the door."

"All I know is, I wanna get outta here!" Harry's voice held a sharp edge, indicating panic was in the not-so-distant future if they didn't leave right this minute.

"We're goin' now. Roll your window up and lock your door, _now,"_ Louis said as he locked his own and cranked his window all the way up. The Mustang didn't have automatic options like the newer cars did. Harry instantly obeyed. Even though, a guy who had been especially persistent in the club was rushing to get into his car, clearly up to no good. His eyes gazing with a determined glint at Harry, he gunned his engine and followed the Mustang out of the lot.

"Hang on Haz. I'm gonna have to lose him." Louis was glad it was late at night, and not as many cars were on the road than if it had been earlier. Their seat belts securely in place, Louis sped out onto the street, pulled a quick right hand turn without using his signal, gained speed, then pulled a very sharp left that Harry hadn't seen coming at all. Neither had the guy following them. He wasn't able to turn fast enough, and continued going straight. Louis made quite a few more random turns and zig-zagged until he was sure he'd lost the guy. The Mustang's power had definitely been a very handy advantage.

"Let's not go straight home, just in case, although he's not likely to find us now." Louis pulled into an all-night grocery store parking lot, asking Harry if there was anything he was especially wanting.

Harry was reluctant to even get out of the car after that hair-raising mini-chase. He was pale and clammy, but followed Louis into the store, and, nearly unable to talk, let Louis grab a few items.

When they went back out to the Mustang, Louis was immensely relieved to see that the car that had chased them earlier wasn't to be found, his eyes quickly scanning the entire parking lot and what he could see of the curbs at the perimeter of the lot.

Just to be extra safe, Louis took a roundabout way home, and quickly parked in the garage, closing it almost before the Mustang was all the way inside.

"Now . . . as long as we don't go to that particular place anymore, that guy is shit outta luck. No Harry for _him_ tonight," he drawled as they put the few groceries away.

Harry laughed robustly at that.

"No, Harry belongs to Louis," he said, wrapping his arms around Louis' neck again and kissing him long and sweet.


	34. Chapter 34

"This is quite lovely. Here at home, in private, without all those randy horn dogs," Louis said while in his dream-like state in between long, drawn-out, sensual kisses.

"I agree. I was so proud to be with you."

Louis felt his heart swell and do that little twist it did when Harry complimented him.

"And I was proud to be with you. Proper lit, even with those heathens checkin' you out like you were a piece of meat. Or rather, a very _fine _piece of steak. Filet Mignon."

Harry giggled and began kissing his neck. Louis thought his knees would buckle.

Much more of this, and Louis feared he'd have permanent blue balls.

"I was wonderin.' If we're gonna be friends with Brooke and Aaron, why don't we ask them out to eat sometime?" Harry asked.

Louis felt a cold chill prickle on his skin, and he didn't like it. He knew he shouldn't automatically think of Brooke's uncle when Harry brought up Brooke and Aaron, but that's just what he'd done. The man had come to his mind instantly, and it irked him.

Well, he wasn't going to let that bastard get any more satisfaction. If Harry wanted to be friends with them—and Louis did too, then they'd be friends. Uncle Phil wasn't going to ruin it.

"Sure!" he said. "I bet they'd like a buffet."

"Yeah, a buffet would be perfect! Wicked!"

They planned to call Brooke and Aaron in the next few days to invite them, and Louis found he was looking forward to it. What were the chances Uncle Phil would be around, anyway? He didn't live there, after all. And he doubted he was there daily.

As they straightened up the living room of scattered newspapers and magazines that Louis had left strewn around, stacking them neatly, Harry kept running into Louis. Physically. At first, Louis thought he was just being clumsy, but it kept happening. Every time Harry brushed up against him, Louis felt the hot flames of desire flaring in his veins.

"Hey, it's pretty bad when someone bumpin' against you turns you on," he said to Harry, who had an impish look on his face. He knew what he'd been doing.

As Harry led Louis to the bedroom, his eyes looked different. There was an extra glow that wasn't there before, and Louis was pretty sure he saw hunger in that glow.

"What's up, Haz?"

"Oh, tonight, watchin' those guys on the dance floor, and feelin' desirable, and also seein' guys look at you," replied Harry. "All of that goin' on at once got me thinkin' how lucky I am to have you, and the way you understand me."

"Wait now, you just said about a hundred things," laughed Louis.

"Well, okay, um," Harry began bashfully. "I got hot watchin' guys on the dance floor. And then I felt desirable because guys were comin' onto me, then I saw guys checkin' you out too. So it made me appreciate 'us' even more than I already did."

Louis felt warmth spread over him like hot butter over popcorn. He could understand the appeal the place had had for Harry. Sure, the place was sleazy, but it had somehow cemented them together, made them want to be alone together after seeing it, and knowing they weren't part of that scene. They didn't want to be at a gay bar, getting groped and who knows what else. Just a taste of it had been all that was necesssary. They knew what awaited them at home.

Bed together. Lots of making out, safe in each other's arms.

Louis got it. It was spicy, and it spiced things up for them. Not that they needed it. They didn't need it at all. They got high on each other. Still, it had been a turn-on, and Harry knew he could look forward to being sexual with Louis, the one who already meant so much to him, without worrying about what might happen at a bar. Not having to look for love anywhere but at home with your loved one.

As they stripped off for bed, left only in underwear, Harry could hardly wait to feel Louis spooning him, his muscled arms holding him securely, wrapped around his waist. He looked forward to it every night. He also loved facing Louis so they could kiss before doing a proper spoon, and falling asleep.

But it didn't happen that way. They _stayed_ face to face. The kisses were soft and tender for quite a while, then a little more demanding, until they were amorous as hell. Lips, tongues, overpowering desire. Louis pulled Harry on top of him for a while, and then he rolled Harry over so he was on top, taking Harry's breath away with his intensity.

All that could be heard in the room was labored breathing with the occasional small moan. Louis had to keep telling himself that this wouldn't lead to anything—that he'd just have to bite the bullet.

But Harry was ardent. He was just as aggressive as Louis, and he seemed relaxed and untroubled, albeit, about as aroused as he could possibly get.

Louis tried to think coherently, but found it wasn't possible. Harry had him thinking of nothing but what was happening in the moment. His neck was sensitive, and Harry was sucking, kissing and nibbling on it, making him squirm. Harry was working his way down to his shoulder, having now added licking to the list of things his mouth was doing to Louis.

Down into the hollow of Louis' collar bone Harry ventured, barely touching his lips there, seeking responses to whatever he did.

Now, taking in big gulps of air, he reached Louis' chest. Louis didn't know if Harry was going to be able to engage in much more of this. He was practically eating Louis alive, gasping and whimpering in a haunting manner. Louis absolutely loved it.

Harry had never been so ready for anything. And he wasn't even sure what he was ready _for._ All he knew was he had to get as close to Louis as he possibly could, bring him as much pleasure as he could. His hand brushed against Louis' nipple, causing Louis to gasp loudly. He'd done it on purpose.

On the spot, he replaced his mouth with his hand and Louis gasped again, even louder, writhing around a little bit. Harry toyed with it the tight, erect bud with his lips. Funny how Louis seemed to have sensitive nipples like he, himself had.

"You really like that, a _lot_!" he exclaimed as he paused against Louis's skin.

"Oh God, yes. It's obviously an erogenous zone for me," Louis panted.

So Harry continued. He sucked and licked, tweaking the other nipple with the fingers and thumb of his opposite hand. Louis' chest was heaving. With each new thing he tried with his mouth, Harry learned a little bit more of what Louis liked. He definitely liked his belly licked, and when he stuck his tongue in his belly button, Louis groaned.

Barely above his underwear now, Harry was glad Louis hadn't taken them off. He would have been _right there._ He noted the hairline of Louis' pubic area was barely showing above his underwear, and that sexy line of hair that grew from under his belly button and on down . . . disappearing into his underwear.

Louis had been unconsciously holding his breath. Now Harry was kissing up and down his side—first one, then the other. Louis had the most extreme urge to scream. All that sexual tension had to go _somewhere._

"Let me do that to you," he rasped out, even though he didn't know if Harry would accept it or not. But it was either that or actually scream, and that would be unsettling at the very least.

Harry ignored his comment. Instead, he climbed fully on top of Louis, hyper aware of their twin hard shafts lining up almost perfectly. Harry's lips sought Louis' neck again, nuzzling and making sounds that were somewhere between humming and moaning. His hips began to move, brushing the most private part of himself against Louis' own.

"Oh . . . Harry," Louis' voice was weak and trembling. They began to rub against each other as they had done that night many weeks ago. Louis' hands clasped Harry around the middle of his back, pulling him as tightly against him as he could.

Harry actually started to thrust, his cock nudging Louis' own each time he made a pass with his hips. Surely one, or both of them would explode if this continued much longer.

"I want you, Lou," Harry's voice was little more than a helpless whine. Louis wasn't sure how to react, and the sensations were so strong that he couldn't articulate anything. So instead, he just kept holding Harry tight.

"Louis, _please_."

Well, now Louis _had_ to say or do something, and just pray it wasn't the wrong thing.

"Want to take our underwear off?" he asked in a very quiet, serene voice. At least he hoped it was serene, because it sounded weak to his ears, and he was holding onto a very thin thread of control. A thread that could very easily break at any time.

Turning the lamp down to the lowest setting, Louis slipped out of bed and removed his underwear. He saw through his lusty haze that Harry was doing the same thing. They climbed back into bed, Louis noting that Harry's cock was impressive, bobbing against his stomach, long, engorged and very thick.

_Wow._ Holy shit. Harry was really hung! He'd suspected it from the times Harry had been hard in his pants, but it was difficult to tell, for sure, until someone was naked. Louis remembered the time he'd touched Harry there through his underwear very briefly, and he'd thought it must have been his imagination. But it wasn't. He saw Harry stealing glances at his dick too, and he hoped it met with his approval. It wasn't enormous like Harry, but it certainly wasn't small either. How would a guy with a tiny one feel when going to bed with Harry? Very inadequate, that's what.

"You're massive," said Louis into Harry's neck as soon as they were in bed. He said it quietly, so as not to mar the mood. He figured it wouldn't hurt to give Harry's confidence a little boost. Harry must have been blushing, because he didn't say a word, just breathed shallowly as if the words had turned him on.

Louis' mouth was hungry. Sure, he wanted to feel Harry with his hands, but he wanted his mouth all over him more than anything. He couldn't imagine Harry recoiling from him, but you never knew . . . It had happened several times already. Louis was actually starting to lose some confidence because of it. Harry was flighty when it came to sex, and he had a perfectly good reason to be, but did he realize what he did to Louis when he full-on_ attacked _him? And then abruptly halted things?

Well, here goes nothing.

Louis climbed on top of Harry this time, carefully gauging his reactions. And they were all good. Harry was eager, constantly running his hands up and down Louis' back.

Louis couldn't be second-guessing himself. Even though he'd always been the aggressor when it came to sex, he'd never been with Harry before, and that was so pivotal, because no one else had ever mattered, whereas Harry mattered so much that it frightened the holy crap out of him.

It _had _to be good. It had to be right. He had to win Harry over so that Harry wouldn't ever want anyone else. It was a heavy weight to carry, but he reminded himself that he'd just try to go where his heart guided him. He'd have to guess at what Harry wanted, needed. He'd never felt this kind of pressure and wasn't sure what to do with it.

There was a whole lot riding on it, and Louis had to be sure he would act natural, and not like he was trying to prove anything. A robot, he was not. He had to be human, faults and all. And he hoped Harry would accept him the way he was.

His open mouth devoured Harry's, constantly moving, slanting his head to get the best angle, seduction foremost in his mind. No wait, Harry's feelings were foremost, but the seduction was right behind it. He wanted to _express_ his own feelings toward Harry.

What would he bloody do if Harry rejected him again? He wouldn't hide out in a corner and pout. He would plow onward, accepting it and exercising his forbearance, possibly to the limit. He didn't care though, if it meant winning Harry, he'd take care of business however he had to.

And here he'd refused to return Harry's declaration of love. Who was he fooling, anyway? Not himself, that was for sure.

His kisses roamed over Harry's shoulders and down his arms, his lips resting on the inside of Harry's elbow. Enjoying the resulting shiver under Harry's skin. It wasn't fear. No, it was desire. Hot, desperate, sexual desire. Louis knew him well enough now to know that there was a chance Harry was at last ready. Ready for _something, _but he didn't know how much. No matter though, as they had time on their side. Years and years and years of time.

Harry wiggled almost imperceptibly as Louis slid his fingers along the curly lad's ribs. Louis also noted how Harry's legs naturally began to spread. Louis' cock throbbed at the discovery. Harry probably didn't even know what he was doing, but his body was surely doing the talking for him, instinctively.

After some intense nipple play that Harry enjoyed as much as Louis had, Louis moved down to Harry's second set of nipples and gave them equal attention, taking note of how they, too, were erect. It astonished him. Harry was such a sensual being.

Mimicking Harry's own moves to a certain point, Louis reached Harry's belly button and licked it lightly, spearing it with his tongue. Harry jerked and gasped. What a shame this lad hadn't even had the opportunity to experience foreplay. Louis was changing that, and the thought made him feel exalted.

Peering up into Harry's eyes to try to establish his state of mind, he saw only sleepy, hooded eyes that weren't in fact sleepy, but were instead, half-closed, looking drugged, being a strong indication that Harry was really into this.

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Louis murmured. Harry hummed slightly, as if he was in a dream world.

No underwear in the way, and he'd come within half an inch of Harry's cock, because it almost reached his belly button. Heart thumping a tattoo, stomach up in his throat, Louis finally gave into his unrelenting desire to taste Harry.

What he'd dreamed of so many nights—what had, in fact, caused the wet dream. A dream of doing just this.

He sucked the tip of Harry's cock into his mouth. The gasp that came from Harry momentarily unsettled him. Sounded as if Harry was choking or not able to breathe. But one glance upward told him all he needed to know.

Harry's eyes were shut, his mouth was slightly open, those gorgeous, plump lips moist, the veins in his neck popping out. Okay, so he was no doubt loving it, but was also tense. This was apparently unfamiliar territory, Louis marveled to himself. Hadn't he ever been sucked before? He'd ask later, but for now, it was the ultimate turn-on for Louis.

Almost like having a virgin! He'd often fantasized what Harry's pre-come would taste like, and finally, after what seemed a lifetime, he was finding out. A little sweet, yet salty and earthy. Perfect. He licked it all off avidly, and then sucked harder. For a moment there, he thought Harry was going to explode—in more ways than one.

The Cheshire lad let out a semi-shout, and Louis knew it was from pleasure that was almost unbearable. Harry's gasps of shock and arousal drove Louis' desire to new heights.

Louis remembered his first blow job, and it was, well, mind-blowing. The sensations put your entire body into pleasure seeking mode. You want more, and more. You don't ever want it to end.

Harry's entire body was trembling and quivering. He was moaning low and constant, trying to say something, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. Louis continued, trying to give him the best blow job he'd ever given. And it was easy to do that, because this one was given with love. None of the others had.

He continued to savor Harry's taste as his lips moved up and down the shaft. He wanted to deep-throat him, but didn't know if that might startle Harry. Best to keep things low-key until he could work up to more. But it was difficult, as Harry's hips began to rise. He could tell Harry was trying not to thrust, but he was mostly not succeeding. It just felt too good . . . Louis imagined how it felt. Louis had had many blow jobs, but they had all been hasty and with no feeling. And here, Louis was pouring his emotions into it, trying to convey his strong emotions. He hoped he was doing it right, but Harry's erratic breathing seemed to be a good sign.

His lips, mouth, and tongue all working together for only a very short time had Harry on the edge. He tensed up, his cock became even more steely hard, and Louis knew he was very near. At this point, Harry tried to pull away, but Louis had anticipated it.

Pulling off for just a second, he soothed, "It's fine Haz. Let go. Come on, come for me, baby."

The words must have combined with the intense physical feelings, because it wasn't fifteen seconds later that Harry let go. His climax was unlike anything Louis had witnessed before, and he'd witnessed more than he wished he had.

Harry began thrusting wildly, apparently unable to stop himself, crying out softly, and repeating Louis' name over and over. And that was the very _best _part. Hearing Harry call out his name as he came. Louis' heart melted into an unrecognizable puddle, while at the same time, he was so sexually aroused that he nearly came himself. Only by exercising strong willpower was he able to forestall it.

The heavy spurts shot to the back of his throat with such force that he was almost startled. Louis was sure they would have traveled several feet if his mouth wasn't there. The orgasm continued on for so long that Louis began to wonder if Harry would ever stop coming. Not that he minded. In fact, he loved it, lived for it. He sucked strongly as Harry kept coming for ages, grunting and making gutteral, almost feral sounds. It seemed like forever, but at the same time, it didn't last long enough. Louis wanted to stay down here, sucking Harry for days. He didn't want to ever stop.

He milked Harry until he was empty, still sucking softly. Looking up at a totally spent Harry, Louis smiled. Harry looked so vulnerable, so sweet.

A couple of minutes later, Harry tried to compose himself. But it was impossible. He melted into Louis' arms as Louis settled by his side.

"Still nervous?" asked Louis.

"No . . . no, I'm not. You're the antidote." Harry's voice was hoarse, and he was a hot mess with his hair all rumpled and disheveled, his cheeks splashed with pink.

And Louis couldn't look away.


	35. Chapter 35

"I feel . . . I feel so . . . unenlightened," Harry said in a quiet voice, even though they were alone.

"You sound as if you're ashamed."

"Well, yeah, um, maybe a little."

"Why?" asked Louis. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't know the stuff . . . you know."

"And I find that exciting."

"Me? Bumbling, clumsy me?" Harry was hinting that he wasn't versed in the skill that Louis had just demonstrated when he'd gone down on Harry.

"Yes. You. Just as you are."

Then, out of the blue in typical Harry fashion, "What does it taste like?" His voice was muffled, as he was hiding his face under Louis' chin, and Louis was surprised he'd managed to say it without perishing from the embarrassment.

Louis laughed. "What a question, Haz! You do say the damndest things. I would have thought you'd wait until later on to ask sommat like that. But," Louis was afraid he'd discourage Harry from being open and asking questions, so he responded quickly. "It's kinda sweet, and also a little like salt and vinegar. But just slightly."

Louis knew Harry made a face from his hideout, as he could feel his face scrunch up slightly. "Doesn't sound very pleasant."

"Oh, but it is. Trust me, it's delicious, and such a turn-on."

Harry's face was surely reddening again, so Louis steered the conversation in a different direction.

"I have to tell you, Harry, that the only reason I didn't answer your question was because I wasn't sure. We hadn't made love yet, and I guess I'm a little old-fashioned about stuff like that. I felt I couldn't profess me love until we'd made love. And I think we got close enough just now, so that I can safely say that yes, I'm in love with you."

"You? Old-fashioned? Wait . . . what? _You're in love with me?"_

"Yes, you heard right. And even though I was sort of a man-whore before I met you for a while there, I still am old-fashioned about certain things, and one of them is love. I don't say it lightly. In fact, I've never said it to anyone but you."

Harry was speechless, but looking positively lit.

"I wanted to be positive of me feelins,' Harry. And now I am. I can tell we're compatible in every way. You even have the passion I have, the passion I've been coverin' up," Louis winked at him.

"Yes, I'm _very_ passionate!" announced Harry. "Always have been. Just didn't have anyone to be passionate with."

"I can see that."

"There's . . . there's things I want to do, you know. Things I want to do to you, but . . . I'd probably embarrass meself and you too."

Louis knew Harry was speaking of sexual activities.

"I told you, I won't judge you. I find it endearin' that you're not overly knowledgeable. We'll navigate it together, and I'll not make you feel . . . "

"Stupid?"

"No! Not stupid, but . . . you might feel like you need to be more worldly about sex. Be assured you'll learn all you need to. And like I've already demonstrated, I'm very patient."

Harry seemed to be pleased and satisfied with that. He glanced down at Louis' still rock hard member, and felt guilty. But he just couldn't muster up the courage to do anything about it.

"It will all come in time," Louis said, catching Harry's furtive glance. "There's more than enough for you to think about after what happened tonight."

So Louis was letting him off the hook. Saying, in an indirect way that he didn't expect Harry to offer anything.

Still, Harry was a giving person if nothing else and he wanted Louis to feel what he had—to be fulfilled as Harry had been. He didn't, however, know how to articulate it without making Louis think that he felt obligated. That was _so _not the truth! In fact, he couldn't wait for their lovemaking to blossom, grow, and having Louis teach him was so exciting to look forward to. He'd been terrified of losing Louis because of his lack of knowledge, and now it looked like he didn't have to worry about that any longer.

Harry was having trouble concentrating. He couldn't stop thinking about how Louis had admitted he was in love with him. He'd thought it would take much longer than this. But what Louis had said made sense. He could understand people wanting to make love before deciding if they were truly in love with that person or not. He loved and appreciated Louis' honesty.

Meanwhile, Louis continued to cradle Harry's head under his chin and kissed the top of his head. He'd spent years refining his self-discipline, and right now, he felt he didn't have any. What was more, he kind of liked it. Oh hell, who was he kidding? He _loved _it. Harry made him feel like he was loved unconditionally. He wanted to be a slave to love—how corny was that?

He'd been alone so long that this felt like pure bliss. He felt free. The years of hasty, horny, dirty sex were gone. His cock was pulsing and jerking, but he ignored it. The intimacy of holding each other was more important. They had taken the first big step beyond kissing, and Harry hadn't backed out on him. Things could only get better from now on.

So_ this_ is what it was like. This is what he'd been missing out on. Twenty-nine years old, and he hadn't had a real relationship. He couldn't wait for the future to see what it had in store for them.

A week later, when they stopped at Aaron and Brooke's house to take them out to a buffet dinner, Louis was aghast at who answered the door.

Uncle Phil. This time Harry was standing right next to him. That, however, didn't stop Uncle Phil from making a nasty comment. He looked over his shoulder to be sure Brooke and Aaron weren't in the room, and then gave it to Louis with both barrels.

"You two are the ones that are taking Brooke and Aaron out for dinner?" he asked scornfully.

"We are. Please just get Brooke and Aaron so we can go," Louis was proud of his control, and glad Harry knew the score. If he hadn't told Harry about what the man had said, Harry would have been in the dark. Louis stared at the balding guy, who was probably in his fifties, and looked like he hadn't been laid in ages. What woman would be interested, anyway? The guy had permanent frown lines everywhere—from his forehead to his mouth.

"Is that Harry and Louis? We'll be out in a minute!" Brooke called from another room.

"Come in," said Uncle Phil in the most unwelcoming way Louis could imagine.

"Aren't you guys ashamed of what you're doing?" he asked before Louis and Harry could even sit down on the couch.

"No!" exclaimed Harry, jolting Louis with that one firm and decisive word. "We're in love," Harry added.

"Two guys? In love? You gotta be shittin' me! You two will go to hell, you know," Uncle Phil looked evil and wicked as he smiled as if he relished the thought. Some of his teeth were missing and the rest looked rotten, making him appear all the more distasteful.

"No we won't," corrected Harry. "Love is love. And being gay is not a choice."

Louis, although he was crushed at the man's words, was equally proud of Harry.

"You need to back off and mind your own business. We aren't hurtin' anyone," he said.

"Oh yes you are. You're a poor example for the young kids, and besides that, it's repulsive and sickening," Uncle Phil's face was red, his skin rough and scaly looking, as if he had a skin condition. Louis couldn't help actually feeling a little sorry for him. Poor guy probably wasn't getting any, and he was envious of their closeness.

Harry emanated no anger toward the man, but pity was another story. Louis could feel the good intentions flowing from Harry. Even in this situation, Harry was able to distance himself and not allow himself to be overly affected.

Not so for Louis. He might feel a bit sorry for Phil, but he was also beside himself, ready to fly off the handle. But he wouldn't—for Brooke and Aaron's sake. And he now realized that they didn't know how Uncle Phil felt. Uncle Phil kept his voice down so Brooke and Aaron wouldn't hear the exchange. The bitterness just dripped off the man.

"Two guys aren't meant to be together. It's unnatural," the loathing and the glare continued. Louis was relieved when Brooke and Aaron entered the room.

"Sorry, we were running a bit late. We're ready. Where are we going?" Brooke, eager to go out to eat and bubbly as always, was completely oblivious of the tension in the room.

"See you later, Uncle Phil!" she sing-songed as the four of them left the house. Louis was determined not to let the man's sour attitude ruin the evening.

Harry was making some healthy choices at the buffet, and Louis just had to step in.

"Haz, baby, it's a buffet! You're not supposed to eat just healthy, but enjoy it all!"

"I'll get some fatty, greasy stuff too, but I'm also gonna get me broccoli, salad and sprouts too!"

"Okay, but don't complain about what I get." Louis then proceeded to fill his plate with roast beef, fried chicken french fries and steak. Then he speared a baked potato which he smeared with gobs of butter.

Harry shook his head in wonder, but didn't comment.

Sitting down, Brooke and Aaron told them about how work was going—Harry and Louis hadn't known what she did before. They discovered she worked in new accounts at a bank three days a week. That explained why she was sometimes at the dog park during the day. Aaron, they found out, built swimming pools.

Brooke was enchanted with Harry's music. She insisted they tell her when Harry was playing next, and she and Aaron would come to the gig.

"The first time I saw you, Harry, I knew you looked familiar. Who could forget that face anyway? Now I know where I've seen you before. You play at clubs around here."

"Yeah," said Harry. "But I've recently changed bands. I'm with Uneven Emotion now. I hope you'll like our music."

"Oh, I know we will. I imagine the kind of music you do would suit me fine. You're the sensitive type, so I bet you have some great material," Brooke said. "I can't see you doing rap or hip hop."

"For sure," agreed Louis. "Nothin' wrong with other genres, but Harry has some unique stuff. He's always workin' on new songs. His lyrics send shivers up me spine," Louis hadn't meant to sound so emotional, but it was the only way he could think of to try to describe Harry's works.

"Harry's the lead singer," he added proudly. "A lot of bands wanted him, so he more or less picked the one he wanted."

Harry had been writing songs and parts of songs at home at night before bed, and Louis had been brushing up on his vocabulary. As a result, Harry had more songs to present to the band, who assisted him when he got stuck on lyrics, and Louis was learning words to woo Harry with. It was part of their nightly routine.

Louis snapped back to the present. Brooke was saying something about her uncle.

"I wish he'd get on an online dating site or something," she said thoughtfully.

"Oh, is he single?" Louis grabbed the opportunity to learn something about Phil.

"Yeah, never been married. He wants to find someone, but he won't really . . . make an effort. I told him he needs to get new clothes and get his teeth fixed. If he's serious about meeting someone, he has to make an effort."

Louis nodded. "Does he live nearby?"

"Yeah, about seven miles from our house," she indicated Aaron. "He's so lonely and bored, that he ends up spending a lot of his free time at our place."

That explained why he'd walked right in the front door when Louis and Harry had been there. He might be Brooke's uncle, but Louis didn't find that appropriate at all. You don't just walk in the door of your niece's house without knocking. But maybe that was just how Brooke's family was . . .

"Does he know about . . . us?" Harry pointed to Louis and then to himself. Louis knew Harry was trying to gather information like he, himself was, and without revealing what Phil had said to them.

"Oh yeah, I told him. He started grumbling to himself. I have a feeling he's not crazy about the idea," explained Brooke. "But it doesn't matter what he thinks, since I'm grown, and living with my boyfriend. I can have whoever I want as friends."

"Are your parents nearby too?" asked Louis.

"No, they live in Vermont. I couldn't stand the cold anymore, so I moved to California with my friend. I'm the adventurous type," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "My girlfriend is the one I was living with before I moved in with Aaron."

"Do you like California?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yeah! I'll never move back to Vermont again. My parents send me a plane ticket twice a year so I can visit them. Aaron's parents are here in town. I really, really like them. They're good people."

"Well, that's good," said Louis. "So you have family nearby in case you need them," Louis directed this to Aaron.

"Yeah, my parents are getting to know Brooke pretty well. They weren't too sure about her at first, but she won them over!"

Louis wasn't sure what Aaron meant by that, but he assumed Aaron's parents had pre-judged Brooke the same way he had in the beginning from the way she sometimes dressed and the heavy make-up she wore. But . . . as the saying went, you can't judge a book by its cover, and Louis and Harry had made a good friend in Brooke. And now Aaron was part of the picture too. With Harry's bandmates being great guys, Louis and Harry were slowly building a little circle of friends.

Aaron held Brooke's hand on top of the table in between refilling their plates, and Louis found himself feeling a tinge of envy that he and Harry couldn't do the same thing.

Brooke and Aaron had a lot of questions about England to ask them, and so the evening passed quickly. Before they knew it, it was nine o'clock, and they'd all made a couple of visits to the dessert bar. Everyone was stuffed and bloated, and feeling a whole lot easier together. There was definitely camaraderie, everyone comfortable and relaxed.

When they dropped Brooke and Aaron off after dinner, Brooke couldn't stop thanking them for a wonderful time. She and Aaron wanted to take Harry and Louis out in the near future. She was so grateful that Harry and Louis ran out of things to say. _"You're welcome . . . no problem . . . anytime_, and she just kept raving.

Louis felt warm inside, knowing Brooke had enjoyed herself so much. And Aaron had been such an interesting person to talk to. He seemed to know a lot about a wide variety of subjects that he blew them away with his knowledge.

But then, Louis caught sight of Phil standing on the porch after Brooke and Aaron had gone into the house. He was practically sneering at them.

"Man, what is that guy's problem?" Harry said from the passenger seat.

"I don't know, but he sure seems to go out of his way to rub it in about how much he can't stand us. You'd think his first thought would be to avoid us. I mean, was it really necessary to come out onto the porch to leer at us?"

"I don't know, but I'm creeped out," was Harry's response.

Louis put the Mustang into gear and they pulled away.

As soon as they got home, got inside, and changed into their night clothes, which consisted of only boxer shorts, Harry was all over Louis.

_Oh, Louis was liking this._

Standing in the bedroom, Harry didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, so he palmed a globe of Louis' ass.

"Wha—" Louis was stunned speechless.

"Couldn't help it, honest!" Harry flew to his own defense. "I've wanted to do that since the first day I saw it in the thrift store parkin' lot! You know, when you were bendin' over the battery." As if that would justify it. Louis laughed.

"I bet you get a lotta that," Harry said seriously.

"Used to. When I'd go to a gay bar or sommat. But most people don't grab my arse on the street, just on a whim. I mean, it's not _that _bad."

"But plenty of people _want _to. I can guarantee that. You have to have been told many times how stunnin' it is."

"Yeah, I was blessed with that, I guess. But you—you're the one who stands out in a crowd, Hazza."

"Baby face," pouted Harry.

"No, I don't agree. Innocent and untouched lookin,' but I wouldn't say baby faced. Don't you notice how the girls always gawk at you?"

"No."

"That's because you're used to it. It's probably happened your whole life, since you were a kid."

"I don't know. I guess if people did stare at me, I got . . . used to it or sommat. But I would rather have your face. Rugged, handsome, manly."

"No, Harry. If you're gay—like we are . . . you want to catch a guy's attention with prettiness, and that's just what you have. But you don't need anyone's attention but mine," he added quickly with a teasing smile.

Harry looked confused.

"I mean that in a very good way. Guys can be pretty. As for you; you go beyond that. You're beautiful."

Harry experienced a jagged spike of arousal, causing his knees to go weak, and making him nearly desperate to cuddle with Louis . . . touch him.

"You've done me head in," he said, not knowing what else he could possibly say to such an overwhelming compliment.

"Come lay down with me," Louis was on the bed, inviting Harry with a pat to the mattress. Harry automatically turned the lamp down and joined Louis. Louis reached over Harry and turned the lamp off so they were in nearly complete darkness.

"Might help with your shyness," Louis said in a quiet, steady voice.

"Yeah . . . good idea," Harry's voice was a little shaky, but he was clinging to Louis like vine tendrils around a wooden post. Instead of liquid courage, Louis reckoned "darkness courage" could go a long way toward putting Harry closer to being at ease.

They kissed for a long while, as they usually did. Harry was coming to yearn for it, crave it. Louis' suctioning lips always sought out his lips, and then his tongue, coaxing Harry to let nature do the rest.

They hadn't been sexual except for kissing and cuddling since that night a week ago.

Harry's fingers danced on Louis' neck, tracing circles with several fingers, enjoying the scratch of the four day old bristles on Louis' cheeks. Just the right amount. His fingers traveling down Louis' side teased and tormented. Louis ground his teeth, trying to keep control within his grasp.

Harry was a natural tease, he was finding out. He tended to touch Louis as if he had intentions, and then lighten up, ending with a touch that was barely there. Harry took his time and explored the Donny lad's body, and although the process was excruciatingly slow for Louis, he realized Harry needed this—something slow and at his own chosen pace. It was the only way Harry would learn to know Louis' body and be unafraid of it.

Louis rolled onto his back, giving Harry all the access he wanted. When Harry's roaming fingers skittered down Louis' side again, and met the sensitive area between Louis' lower belly and the top of his thigh, the area his snug underwear barely covered, Louis took a sudden deep breath, his cock jumping against his belly.

Harry skirted just the outer edge of Louis' underwear, and that was so erotic, here in the dark. It was softer, silkier than he had expected. He was doing whatever he pleased, Louis allowing it with no questions asked and no penalties in sight.

Harry's hungry mouth ended up going up and down Louis' sides as his fingers had, causing Louis to start breathing raggedly, tensing up every time Harry got anywhere near that area that Louis associated with imminent pleasure, but dared not to hope.

Harry, screwing up his courage, and cooing softly as he touched and kissed, again felt powerful and in control. The only other place he'd felt this confident was onstage. Never, ever in the bedroom. Until now . . .

Harry's fingers touched Louis gently, and he knew Louis could hear him breathing as if his next breath could be his last. His tongue flicked out, and he dared to barely touch the flesh at the juncture where he now knew how sensitive Louis was—at the top of his thigh, and inward just a little bit, his tongue feeling like it was electric. Wow, but he wished Louis was naked.

Louis could hardly lie still anymore. He wanted like nothing he'd ever wanted before to tear off his underwear and push Harry's head down there, guide him onto his cock. But he knew better. It was better by far to let Harry make the conscious decision. This would be different for Harry than any other encounter he'd had. He would learn to enjoy it, not dread it, or even be ambivalent about it. This had to be solely Harry's idea, and whatever he wanted or didn't want to do would be his determination.

Louis was rewarded, despite his impatient thoughts, with a full, gentle lick on the inside of his thigh a moment later. Harry had had to lean over his leg to accomplish it. Louis cried out, not even knowing he was going to. But it was a cry of pleasure, and Harry knew that.

Encouraged and aroused by Louis' reaction, Harry removed his underwear, and Louis copied him. Now that they were both naked, Harry resumed by licking more boldly, loving the taste, and wanting more . . . more . . . more. His courage grew when Louis didn't jam himself down Harry's throat or order him around roughly. Maybe, just _maybe,_ this would be different. He felt like a whole new world was settling around him. A world that differed vastly from the one he'd known before. He'd had sex before only reluctantly- to satisfy a need, and sometimes just to satisfy someone else's need, but this was so much more than that.

He felt sweetness and understanding in Louis' body language, even in the dark. Louis' hands had settled on the back of his head, but they weren't forceful and demanding. Rather, they were soft, with just enough pressure to let Harry know that Louis was loving this.

Harry, ever more emboldened, yet still very nervous about his performance, dropped his lips over the head of Louis' cock, as Louis had done to him. He sucked at it, glorying in the taste of the pre-come that did more than dribble from it. It pulsated, squirting very slightly into his mouth.

What a wonderland of erotism! Harry was thrilled that Louis was turned on enough to offer him an abundance of pre-come. He sucked more, savoring the taste, listening to Louis' gasps and moans. He tried different things to see what Louis liked. He found the head of Louis' cock ultra sensitive, and so he tongued it a lot while sucking.

It had been a long time for Louis, so, like with Harry, it didn't last long. Louis' shaft throbbed and his hips began to move gently, so as not to startle Harry. He just couldn't help it anyway. It was natural when stimulated by such a sweet mouth.

"Oh . . . oh. Harry, I'm almost there . . ."

Harry was glued to his cock, and Louis knew he wasn't going to pull off. He hoped it wouldn't be too much, or scare Harry, but he couldn't stop now. He tried to push Harry away, but Harry braced himself, determination evident.

Louis came much like Harry had—in heavy, strong spurts. He whimpered, made all kinds of sounds. Harry didn't even flinch. In fact, he relished. He sucked Louis like a baby bottle until Louis was utterly spent. And when it was over, Louis came again, just from the gentle sucking and cleaning up of his cock from Harry's tongue. It wasn't a full orgasm, but it showed Harry just how intensely Louis had been aroused. Harry kept sucking until Louis pulled himself out of his mouth. Harry understood he was probably super sensitive by now.

In each other's arms again, Harry made an announcement.

"Don't you think it's safe to say we're compatible in every way, including sexually?"

Louis didn't even pause. "I think it's safe to say we're dynamite in bed. But then, I never doubted we'd be."


	36. Chapter 36

Harry took a deep breath, and said what he needed so badly to say.

"Did I . . . did I do it right?"

Louis reached up and set the bedside lamp to the low setting. He needed to see Harry's face for this. To convince him.

The first thing he saw was that Harry's pouty lips were glistening with his own come, and Louis had never seen him look so beautiful.

"Harry, you couldn't have done any better. I came so fast because you're so good."

Harry smiled happily. "I was unsure. You'd tell me if you'd rather I did sommat differently, yeah?"

"Of course I would."

"I wanted to that night too . . . "

"I know, but like I said then, you'd had plenty for one night. I don't ever want to push you, Harry."

"You've been so . . . accomodatin,' I guess is how I should put it."

"You mean the world to me, Haz."

Over the coming days, Louis struggled with his sexuality. Brooke's uncle had distressed him so that he had more and more trouble concentrating when he read or watched telly. Even when he was at the gym, working out with Harry. It sat in the back of his mind, niggling at him.

It began to haunt his dreams, caused him to think everyone he saw on the street could read on his face that he was gay. He hated to bother Harry with it, but something had to be done. He couldn't keep living like this, hoping it would wear off. Because it wasn't.

He knew enough now to know when he needed help. He had watched Harry seek help, and it had been virtually painless—at least for Harry. That gave him incentive. So he brought it up to Harry one night.

"I think I need to go see the psycho-therapist."

Harry was immediately alarmed. "Why?" he asked as he raised his arms to towel dry his hair. He then put it up turban style like he always did when he got out of the shower. Louis had to tear his eyes away. Every part of Harry's body was so sexy.

Louis' eyes roved over him once again, having not been successful at diverting his gaze. Harry walked around naked some of the time now. There was no reason to hide behind towels anymore when getting out of the shower.

Louis came out of his trance and jerked his eyes back up to Harry's face sheepishly.

"Oh, um. You got me all befuddled," he said.

"I didn't do a thing!"

"I meant, well, you lookin' at me."

"Can you blame me? Your body—God, Harry, I want us to be close every night. And I mean more than just cuddlin' and spoonin.'"

Harry blushed. "I do too. I thought you needed time in between though."

"Are you kiddin?'" Louis shook his head firmly. "I thought maybe it would be askin' too much of you, seein' as you're kinda new to this . . . intense stuff."

"I love it!"

Louis had been keeping his desires to himself. If only he had known Harry wanted to have sex again . . .

"Anyway, let's discuss that after this. You're gonna go back to the doctor?" Harry kept the subject to Louis, even though he was captivated by the thought of more intimacy.

"Yeah. Brooke's damn uncle is the reason. The fookin' losah is makin' me feel bad about meself."

"Aw, Lou. Don't allow him to do that. I don't let it bother me. I act like a duck . . . let it roll off me back."

Louis laughed. You're capable of that with a lot of things, Haz. Apparently I'm not. Not about this, anyway. I think you're a lot more secure in your sexuality than I am."

"Okay, then. Make an appointment. I'm proud of you for bringin' it up and doin' sommat about it."

So Louis did just that, and again, he found himself sitting across from the doctor.

"I didn't really expect to see you back," Dr. Meeks admitted. "And if it was to be one of you, I would have expected Harry."

"Oh, Harry's fine. It's me that has a problem."

The doctor formed lines of concentration above his brows and between his eyes.

"_You're_ afraid now?" he asked.

Louis had to think about that for a moment. "Oh, no!" he laughed. "We got that sorted out almost straight away. Well, within weeks anyway," he felt the blood congealing in his cheeks. They were talking indirectly about sex, something Louis had never spoken about with a straight man.

Good! So what is troubling you?"

"Well, a friend of ours has an uncle who spends a lot of time at her house, and he has made remarks to me on a couple of occasions about how disgusting Harry and I are, how it's not natural. Things of that nature."

The doctor leaned back, threading his fingers over his belly, looking thoughtful.

"And I'll bet . . . " he began slowly. "That it doesn't bother Harry."

"You're right! But how did you know?"

"Harry has a different temperament than you do. He doesn't dwell on what others think of him."

"Exactly," said Louis, amazed at the doctor's perceptiveness.

Dr. Meeks was really on the ball. He seemed to have gleaned a lot of information from talking with Harry about being abused, with not much else to go on. He was extremely observant, but Louis knew it was his profession, and he would have to gather bits of information from everyone he saw as a patient, because Louis supposed it was difficult to get a good many of his patients to open up. Man, he was glad he didn't have that job! He knew he, personally, would go home exhausted and drained mentally from listening to people's problems all day long. No doubt the doctor made a lot of money at it, as Louis had at his corporate job; both occupations demanded so much of a person. It made Louis all the more relieved to have left that high pressure way of life behind.

"So it's on your mind a lot?"

"Hell, yeah. Even in me dreams. The man makes me feel . . . dirty."

The doctor thought this over as he cupped his chin in his hand, pondering what the right words to use would be.

"Are you ashamed of being gay?" he asked, point blank.

Louis shifted in his seat, determined to answer candidly. "Not usually, but around that man, I suppose, yes, I am. Wait . . . I guess you're right. I make sure no one even suspects it, anywhere I am, except for at a barbeque once. Harry got cuddly, and I kinda showed just a little of it then," he felt he was rambling. "But then, of course, I was also drinkin.' Don't think I would've if I hadn't been kinda buzzed."

The doctor nodded patiently. "So you're not out."

"No, no I guess I'm not. No . . . _definitely _not," he corrected himself.

The doctor took a deep breath and prepared to enlighten Louis.

"Louis, we only live once. Harry makes you happy. It's that simple. Do you want to continue living in secrecy? Denying it, even if just in your mannerisms?"

"Well no . . ."

"Okay, well, being gay is something you can't control. Lots of people are of the mind that you can change if you really_ want_ to, but I'm not one of those people. I've been a psycho-therapist for nearly thirty years now, and I can say with a good deal of confidence that most people who are gay, are _born _that way. And many straight people don't realize that. And when I say that, I'm giving the benefit of the doubt to the uncle of your friend."

"Oh, he's scornful and downright nasty."

"Okay, then maybe he's just showing prejudice. There could be a lot more to it, but I don't know him. Perhaps he was raised to believe that homosexuality is wrong, even evil. But regardless of his circumstances, you have your own mind. You can choose to let him make you feel bad, or you can just enjoy Harry. I don't mean showing physical affection toward Harry in front of him with the intention of offending him, but you might want to just act natural, as if you didn't even know how he felt."

Louis wondered if the doctor realized how difficult that might be.

"Or, on the other hand, if you don't feel comfortable with that, you can choose to avoid him."

"That's the hard part. He's over at our friend's house a lot," Louis reminded him.

"That's right, you did say that. I don't know if you might consider talking to him? Or, if you don't want to, have Harry do it? I have the feeling it wouldn't bother Harry much."

"I don't think it would make any difference," Louis said honestly. "The man is not only clearly against it, but has decided he hates us _because_ of it."

"Have you talked to his niece about it?"

"No. We haven't said a word. We don't want to strain things between them. He's her uncle, after all. I don't want her to feel bad about it."

The doctor nodded. "I understand that. That's very selfless of you. But it sounds as if, sooner or later, his niece will find out how her uncle feels. At some point he's going to mess up and give himself away."

"I hadn't thought of that," Louis said thoughtfully.

"But I appreciate that you don't want to hurt her. Perhaps you can talk to her and explain things, and tell her you don't want to compromise your friendship with her, and maybe it would be best if you and Harry meet her somewhere other than her house."

Louis slapped his forehead with his palm. "Why didn't I think of that! But you don't think it'll make her think it wouldn't be worth the extra trouble to be friends with us anymore?"

"No I don't. Not if she really likes you and Harry. And who wouldn't?" the doctor smiled. "You're both very likeable. You are still quite uncomfortable with the fact that you're gay, aren't you?" This question was being asked for the second time, although phrased a bit differently, and it took Louis by surprise. It had been quite unexpected.

"I don't know if that's it or not. Maybe I just don't like the idea of people disapprovin' of me."

"Disapproving of you for being gay?" The doctor raised one eyebrow.

"Okay, you got me there. I guess it comes out the same way in the end, yeah?"

"Yeah. Maybe you'll, someday, adopt Harry's attitude. It seems to be infectious."

"Yeah, Harry's too busy bein' happy to let it faze him."

"Exactly, bullseye. Follow Harry's example and I think you'll be fine. Eventually you'll come to accept the fact that you're gay, and not feel inferior because of it. Because you're _not_ inferior."

Louis walked out feeling a hundred times better about himself than when he'd walked in. Dr. Meeks was right. Why should he allow that homophobic man to take his happiness away? If he was miserable, Harry would soon be miserable too. And they were just beginning a wonderful relationship. What others thought shouldn't make a dent in their happiness. And that is just what Louis told Harry when he got home.

Harry hadn't gone along this time because they both felt it would be better for Louis to go alone. Harry had offered to wait in the waiting room, but Louis had discouraged him, offering to go get ice cream after he got home. Actually, he'd been afraid he might break down and cry in the therapist's office, and he didn't want Harry to witness that. Luckily, it hadn't happened.

Louis had been greatly concerned about the effect Brooke's uncle's wrath had on him. And he had just about allowed it to consume him. Let one man ruin his relationship with Harry? Had he gone mad? He told Harry he felt they needed to talk to Brooke as soon as possible about her uncle. Harry agreed.

When they went to bed, things felt like a revelation to Louis. Not that he was planning on telling anyone he was gay, but after his talk with Dr. Meeks he felt he didn't need to do that. It was just _knowing_ it, embracing it, and not questioning it that brought him peace. He was gay. So what? At least one in four or five people were, from things he'd read. That meant there were a whole hell of a lot of them hiding in the closet. He didn't want to be one of them. Why did it come so easy to Harry, yet he struggled with it? _Different temperaments_, the doctor had said. Most of the time Harry was laid back, Louis was impatient. Harry was neat and clean, Louis was a slob around the house. Harry was generally quiet, and Louis was explosive and loud when something got on his nerves.

To each his own, but Louis was determined to learn to accept himself the way he was, and not be ashamed to let others know Harry was his boyfriend without dangling it in front of their faces. That was his short-term goal. And just that, in itself was stabilizing.

"I just realized sommat," said Louis. "We didn't go get ice cream! I'm sorry."

"S'okay Lou. I forgot too."

"Are you sure? You don't mind going tomorrow instead?"

"No, I wanna be at home with you anyway."

Harry was being the "big spoon" tonight. And he was absolutely loving Louis' round, firm butt nestled up to his crotch. He loved to sneak a feel in whenever he got a chance, but having it backed up firmly against him was unarguably the best feeling in the world. His cock got hard just as soon as their bodies made contact.

Louis was enjoying the feeling of Harry's cock, hard and throbbing, pressing into him. So that was how it felt! No wonder Harry loved being the "little spoon." It was a nice change for Louis, but generally he liked to feel like the protector, and that seemed to him to be the "big spoon's" job.

They were under a full moon tonight, and Louis had thrown the curtains wide, knowing that Harry considered a full moon very romantic. Louis rolled over onto his back, feeling Harry's eyes on him, observing him.

Wow, what an erotic thing, feeling Harry's eyes on him like a caress.

Harry took a mental photograph as the moon showcased Louis' hard body, and tucked the image away into the deepest recesses of his mind to bring to the fore whenever he wanted to. An image that only he could see, and an image no one could ever whisk away from him.

His eyes wandered now, noting that Louis was as erect as he was, and his mouth watered at the prospect of getting to feel it in his mouth again. Louis' mind was in the same place. He smoothed Harry's hair back—the fringe that had flopped over Harry's brow, and then he swept back the rest of it so he could kiss those moist, ever-inviting lips.

"How could I have possibly resisted you for so long?" he said, almost as if to himself as their lips parted briefly.

"Same here. I wanked in the shower so, so many times," Harry confessed, making Louis laugh.

"Did you have fantasies about me?" Harry then asked.

"Oh, did I ever!"

"Tell me about one of them."

"Well . . . there was a favorite I had. And . . ." Louis' eyes twinkled. "I'd much rather show you than tell you," his voice was teasing. "Turn around."

"What?" Harry looked puzzled.

"Turn around so you're facing the other way," instructed Louis. Harry looked even more perplexed, but his feet were soon at Louis' head and his own head at Louis' feet.

"Okay, now we can both feast at the same time," Louis hoped this wasn't too big of a step, but something told him it wasn't.

When Louis took Harry's cock into his mouth, Harry understood. The satisfied cooing sound that came from him made electric shocks of arousal zip around Louis, but when he eagerly began to suck Louis, it was the ultimate turn-on. Harry had obviously never done this before, and he was over-the-top delighted. It showed in the way he acted as if he wanted to swallow Louis whole.

Well, tonight, Louis was literally going to swallow Harry. He urged Harry to get on his side, and then Louis slid his mouth down as far as he could on Harry's cock. So deep that he gagged. Alarmed, Harry started to draw back, but Louis wouldn't allow it, a hand on each butt cheek urging him to stay where he was.

Louis then opened his throat and deep-throated Harry, not sure if he'd be able to manage it or not; until he actually did. Louis knew how good it felt to be deep-throated, but he doubted Harry had ever had it done because he was so big down there. So, remembering how fantastic it had felt the first time someone had done it to him, Louis put himself in Harry's shoes.

The sensations, he knew, were overwhelming. All that wetness, being completely enclosed, the suction added making things even better, if that were possible. Harry stopped sucking him momentarily, and Louis knew why. The total stimulation was cascading over him, and Louis himself nearly came, just knowing what he was doing to Harry, and how it must feel.

A bare half-minute later, Harry was on Louis' cock like he was ravenous. Harry purred, he growled—he made the most sensual noises Louis had ever heard a person make while having sex. It was like a porn movie, only they weren't actors—this was real. Movies were never as good as the real thing. And when you truly loved the person you were pleasuring, there was no limit to the rapture.

Louis moved one hand to massage Harry's balls as he attempted to keep deep-throating him without gagging. He had his gag reflex pretty well trained, but he'd never been with anyone quite as long and thick as Harry, so it took some adjusting. But the interesting thing about it was, Harry's size turned Louis on to the maximum. Knowing he was taking that enormous hunk of man flesh down his throat was the ultimate euphoria.

_And it was Harry._ Harry was all he needed.

Harry was, frankly, shocked, stunned and astounded. He hadn't known this kind of act was even possible, much less ever had it done to him. Nor had he come close to doing it to anyone else. When Louis had gagged, he'd felt terrible. The last thing he'd wanted to do was to hurt Louis or cause him discomfort. And his damn oversized junk had choked him! But when Louis hadn't allowed him to pull back, he'd finally realized that Louis was really getting into it, enjoying it with no inhibitions at all.

Sex with Louis was like nothing he'd ever run across in life. Better than any roller coaster, better than the most delicious food, better than singing on stage. Many, many times better.

His climax was approaching faster than he could keep up with it. He was losing all control, but loving every second of it. As Louis swallowed him up, and rubbed his balls, then pulled off just a bit so he could lick and suck at the tip, Harry began to come at just the same moment he could feel Louis began to tighten up. Harry knew that meant Louis' own orgasm was imminent. Louis took him down to the root again, and he came HARD. Jets of hot come hit the back of Louis' throat over and over, and just then, Louis came himself.

They were lost in each other, groaning and coaxing every last bit of seed from each other, greedily swallowing, thrusting weakly for a while as they came down gradually.

Once they finally stopped, absolutely drained from the experience, they cuddled. Louis was finding he seemed to love cuddling as much as Harry did.

"I love you so much, Harry," he declared, tasting the salty sweat on Harry's neck with his tongue. Harry sucked Louis' earlobe, which made him shudder and quiver.

"I love you too, Lou. You're takin' me places I've never been before. With you . . . sex isn't just sex. Now I understand what makin' love really means."


	37. Chapter 37

Louis called Brooke a few days later and asked if they could meet her at the park area next to the dog park that evening.

She was silent for a moment, uncertain about the tone of his voice. He sounded so . . . solemn. Of course, he didn't mean to. It was just that he was nervous and hoping he'd be able to word it right, without upsetting her unduly.

"Sure, no problem. I'll leave Peanut here so Aaron can deal with him," she laughed.

They met before Louis and Harry were to go to the gym. They had an hour or so.

"You guys are scaring me! Is everything okay?" she asked as soon as Louis and Harry got out of the Rover and she exited her Toyota.

"Everything's fine. We just wanted to discuss sommat with you," volunteered Harry. It didn't really put her mind at ease. Whatever did they want to talk about that would involve going to the park instead of talking in her living room?

"The thing is . . . " Louis began. "Your uncle Phil, well, he said sommat to us about our . . . sexuality."

Brooke's already large eyes, sporting her usual thick eyeliner, widened even more. "He did? Oh my God, I had no idea! Shit, I'm so sorry, you guys!" She was so sincere that Louis almost felt guilty for having told her.

"What did he say, and where did he say it?" she asked.

Louis explained about what Phil had said to him at the barbeque, and as they were walking to the car after he'd worked on her computer.

"So he's said something _twice?"_

Louis nodded.

"I had no idea, and I sure hope you guys will stay friends with me and Aaron!"

"Of course we will. We just wanted to talk to you as soon as we could, and not keep it from you," said Harry. "We were gettin' really uncomfortable."

"And that's why it might be better if we keep meetin' somewhere besides your house," said Louis. "Like our place or wherever."

"Yeah! Yeah, sure. The reason Uncle Phil is around so much is because he's lonely. I don't think he has many, if any, friends. He's a little obnoxious, and opinionated, as you've found out, and it discourages people, and I'm pretty sure they avoid him once they find out how he is. I'm one of the few family members who puts up with him, so he hangs around and overstays his welcome, but I feel like I can't be mean enough to ask him to go home. It's a little awkward."

Brooke popped her gum and twirled the end of her hair with a pointer finger as she thought the situation over.

"It's nice of you to include him like you do," offered Harry.

"Well, he's family. But there's no excuse for him making comments about you guys! And to your faces too! I'm going to have to have a talk with him. I feel terrible about this!"

"I don't want this to ruin your relationship with him," explained Louis.

"I've put up with his prejudices and bigoted ways for a long time. He's gone too far this time."

"We were afraid of this," Harry said, "and that's why we were hesitant to say sommat at first."

Brooke was getting more angry by the second. "Harry, no! I'm glad you told me! I should know about these things. I'm pissed off at him. He's got a big mouth and shouldn't be saying stuff like that, no matter how he feels about it."

"We honestly just wanted to ask you and Aaron to meet us somewhere besides your house, not stir up trouble between you and your uncle. But we felt we should be honest about _why_ we wanted to meet elsewhere. I kind of wish we hadn't told you now," Louis said mournfully. He really did feel responsible.

"No, you guys did the right thing! You won't lose my friendship, and I sure hope not to lose yours. I bet it was really hard on you guys," she said, genuine concern in her eyes.

"Well, it wasn't easy, but we're grown-ups and can deal with it," Louis responded.

"Still, no excuse for his behavior. I'm gonna ban him from our home if he doesn't start respecting people."

Louis and Harry let it go. No use in beating a dead horse.

"By the way, Aaron and I want you to go to dinner with us in a couple of weeks. I'll call you," said Brooke as they were all getting ready to leave. She took Louis' cheeks between her palms. "You and Harry are the cutest, most perfect couple. No one is going to tear you apart, and especially not my Uncle Phil!"

"There was no other way to let her know why we won't be goin' over to her house anymore," Harry tried to talk some sense into Louis, who was devastated when they got home.

"I know you're right, but I thought we could smooth it over a little bit."

"No, Lou. You can't smooth sommat like that over. Facts are facts. Now, come to bed." Harry taking charge again. That changed Louis' mood in a hurry. They skipped the gym that night.

Harry was bottled joy. If only Louis could only figure out a way to sell it. But no . . . Harry's joy was his alone to enjoy, and he wouldn't want to share it.

"You're always doin' me head in, Haz," complained Louis, but it wasn't really a complaint.

Never in a million years would Louis have thought Harry would be so openly sexual. He gave the opposite impression to most people he met. But that was half the fun. A wild, feral Harry in the bedroom made for the hottest time, and it was Louis' little secret.

_Harry, all to himself._

Right now, as he sat at the dining room table, finishing his cup of coffee, Harry was on the couch, and Louis suddenly wanted to taste his pre-come. He had thoughts like this all the time, and usually when it was most inconvenient. But it wasn't inconvenient right now.

_Grab the moment. Embrace it._

Before he could get across the room to Harry, Harry himself jumped up and unzipped Louis' jeans. Apparently, his thoughts had been following a similar path.

Louis was about to protest, but Harry didn't give him half a chance. He was on his knees, and pulling Louis' already mostly hard cock out.

"You're hard! Were you havin' the same notions as me?" asked Harry.

"Apparently, but I was gonna get you first."

"Well, tough luck," Harry proceeded to begin to give him an incredible blowjob. The wet heat of his mouth, the intense suction . . . His fingers tangled in Harry's hair as he jerked in delight at the carnal things Harry did with his tongue.

"Harry," Louis' voice was rough. "I don't know if I can stand up." His legs were quivering and he felt very unsteady.

So Harry simply pulled him to the floor. Louis felt woozy. Harry pulled Louis' jeans off and spread Louis' legs, running his fingers lightly over his inner thighs. Ah, this was bliss, pure bliss. And knowing it was _Harry_ doing it made it even more captivating.

Harry kissed Louis' belly and inner thighs, teasing, yet clearly having a goal. Nibbles were followed by the kisses, and Louis was gasping for breath, making Harry smile up at him in an innocuously evil way.

Harry licked a stripe up and down Louis' cock until Louis' hips were thrashing. He was begging—literally begging. And that was something Louis _never _did.

Harry nibbled at Louis' balls, and then sucked them, causing Louis to moan and squirm.

When Harry's mouth made contact with the head of his dick, Louis almost exploded right then.

Being pleased this way, his legs spread wide, made Louis feel utterly wanton. Harry's erotic mouth made him shiver and shake, knowing he'd blow his load very soon if the stimulation didn't ease up a bit. Harry sensed this, and began kissing the insides of Louis' thighs again.

Although he didn't want to come too soon, this was torture. Having Harry's mouth so close, yet so far. After some more teasing, and looking Louis straight in the eye, blue clashing with green, and making Louis even more horny because of the promise he saw in them, Harry finally drew Louis' length into his mouth, sucking forcefully.

"You're killin' me, Haz," he gasped.

He thrust his hips into the heat of Harry's mouth, his entire body ablaze. Harry was unbelievably confident now, and although his technique was still not perfect, his obvious desire for Louis more than made up for it. He was truly enjoying it, his purring sounds evident.

Louis let go finally. He couldn't hold back another second. His release was profound, filling Harry's mouth and throat, Harry hungrily swallowing it down, relishing it, then sucking Louis some more until Louis finally had to beg him to stop due to tenderness.

Afterward, as they lay in each other's arms, still on the living room floor, Harry got that bashful look on his face, and tried to keep from hiding his face in Louis' neck. He faced him instead, his face over Louis' as he asked something of his lover that hadn't been mentioned before.

"Will you teach me?" he inquired with big puppy dog eyes.

"Teach you what?" Louis asked languidly, having been completely spent.

"To do to you what you do to me. It's fantastic."

"What do you mean?"

"Taking me . . . deep," shyness crept into Harry's voice again. "I want to do that to you."

"Oh, you mean deep-throatin' you?" Louis noticed Harry flinch very slightly at the expression. "Sure. It won't be difficult."

"Oh, but it feels sooooooooo damn good!" said Harry enthusiastically. "Your throat muscles . . . "

"Harry, you're already the bomb. What you did to me tonight . . . ummm," Louis crooned dreamily. "It was plenty."

"But I want to learn."

"Okay, I'll teach you. You're turnin' out to be quite amorous, you know?"

"So many years of thinkin' about it," explained Harry. "Wantin' it sweet like we do, not rough, the way I thought it would be for the rest of me life."

Louis cradled Harry's head, feeling like sobbing. Harry had grown to dread sex, and it was only just now he was realizing the true joy it could be. Louis too, actually. He hadn't been abused, but sex hadn't had any meaning before.

And so, over a period of a couple of weeks, Louis gently introduced Harry to deep-throating. He taught him to relax and allow his throat muscles to relax as well, to overcome his gag reflex. Harry was a fast learner, and it didn't take much time before he was really getting the hang of it.

They met Brooke and Aaron at a restaurant that was popular in the area. California had tons of cafes, and this one was one of the nicer ones. They sat at a booth; Louis had always preferred them because of the comfort and more relative privacy.

Brooke had told Aaron about her Uncle Phil's comments, and Aaron had been aghast at the whole thing.

"Everyone is entitled to be with whomever they love," he declared, somewhat bashfully. That was when Harry and Louis knew for sure that Aaron was one hundred percent behind them. They'd often wondered if he was just being polite, and the realization that he supported them meant a hell of a lot.

"Let's talk about sommat else," Louis suggested, not wanting to dwell on the subject. "Do you guys like movies?"

They both nodded vigorously. "Let me guess. Brooke, you like rom coms and Aaron, you like action movies."

Their friends laughed. "Isn't that the way it usually is with couples?" said Brooke.

"You'd think Harry and I would like the same things, but I favor action and he favors more 'soft' things like Notebook or Love Actually."

"But we work it out anyway. We're both flexible," Harry added.

"Compromise—that's what it's all about," Louis said sagely.

Brooke and Aaron were giving them looks that clearly said they envied them.

"We're still learning that stuff," said Aaron. "We both tend to get a little selfish at times."

Aaron selfish? It seemed he was mostly happy with pleasing Brooke. But it was good to know he didn't let Brooke order him around. She was great as a friend, but Louis wasn't so sure what kind of girlfriend she would be. She seemed like she might be the demanding type. A little high maintenance maybe. But then, he reminded himself to stop assuming things about people. It was a bad habit.

"Oh man, I forgot to call me mum tonight!" Louis just now remembered. "I've been so hung up on Haz that I haven't kept in touch enough lately," then he blushed, realizing how that had sounded. He knew their friends were probably thinking about them having sex. But it was true he'd been neglecting his parents lately.

"That is, goin' to the gym, walkin' dogs and doin' errands together," Louis amended, only incriminating himself further.

Brooke giggled, and Aaron looked a little green. Louis realized he was probably seeing images in his head that made him queasy. He was straight, after all.

"They're so hopelessly in love. I knew it almost right away," Brooke boasted to Aaron. "The way they looked at each other! I think I knew it before they did!"

Harry and Louis nodded, not arguing the point. They'd been in denial for a while. Even though they knew they were attracted to each other, they hadn't wanted to openly admit it at first.

They all ordered their dinner when the waitress came by, and sipped their iced teas and soft drinks while waiting.

The door to the café opened, and Harry looked up, since he was facing that way, and he couldn't believe what he saw. It couldn't be! But it was. Uncle Phil. What were the chances he would come to this same café where they were-of all the cafes in Hollywood? Harry suspected he must have seen the Mustang in the parking lot, and also Aaron's jeep. This wasn't an accident.

The balding man wore a baseball cap and a ripped tee shirt and ratty trainers, acting as if he didn't see them sitting at their booth. Harry was pretty sure it was an act. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

Harry gave Louis a look, and Louis then peered over to where Harry indicated with a subtle move of his chin, and saw the man. Louis just about deflated. There was no way in hell Phil would just happen to show up here, and especially at the same time they were here.

Brooke saw the silent glances Louis and Harry gave each other, so she also looked in the direction they had looked, and her chin came up defiantly.

"Oh, so he thinks we're stupid, huh?" she said sourly. "He must've stopped here purposely when he saw our vehicles!"

By now, Aaron had seen what the fuss was about.

"Let's just ignore him," pleaded Louis. He wanted no part of this. He wanted it all to just go away.

"People will do this to us, Lou," said Harry. "He won't be the only one. We just have to do exactly what you said—learn to ignore it." Ah, Harry and his supportive ways. He was always on Louis' side.

So the four of them acted as if Uncle Phil wasn't in the room, or even the same city. They laughed and had good conversation.

Of course, this bugged Phil, as he'd wanted to intimidate Louis and Harry. Make them feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. They had just turned things around on him. He ended up feeling like the unwelcome one, and soon left, after just drinking a coke. He walked slowly past them as he made his way toward the door, but all four friends kept their eyes on each other, not giving him an ounce of satisfaction.

When they got home, Harry praised Louis to the Heavens for not letting Uncle Phil get to him.

"I'm so proud of you, Lou. With you and your temper, I thought for sure you'd react in some way, but you kept it together, and we still had just as much fun as if he hadn't been there, yeah?"

Louis had to admit he was pretty content with how he'd not met Phil's glare or even acknowledged him at all. He was growing more patient, more compassionate—just like Harry.

With the time difference between the UK and the US, he asked Harry to remind him to call his mother in the morning, before they started the day's activities. It would be about four in the afternoon in England if he called her at eight in the morning. He'd felt a little on the guilty side whenever he called her, or she called him because he was only too aware of Harry not having family to talk with on the phone. But Harry was glad Louis kept in touch with his family, and he made no secret of it.

"Remember, Lou. I had a great childhood until I lost me parents. Me mum taught me to be gentle and lovin,' and it's the greatest gift she could have given me."

Louis had to fight back tears. Harry's mum had played a big part in making Harry the caring person he was. Now he understood why Harry was so in touch with his feelings. His mum had had a great influence, and Louis wished he could have met her.

Harry was naturally sensitive, but Louis now knew the impact his mother had made, and he was so grateful to this woman he would never meet for raising such a fine son. A son anyone would be proud of.

"She taught me tolerance," explained Harry. "She accepted me completely for who I was, and never tried to change me in any way. She reminded me that everyone has feelins'—even mean people like Phil, and that there is good in everyone. And that it was my job to try to find that good. To be kind even when someone wasn't kind to me. It made an impression, and I can't imagine not takin' the high road."

Food for thought. Harry had loads of things to teach Louis, and Louis was happy to learn.

"I bet you miss her a lot," he said.

Harry's eyes had a faraway look as he answered. "Yeah, I really do. She showed me lots of affection—taught me that guys can be sensitive too. That it was a positive attribute."

"I have to admit, I've learned to love cuddlin' since you've been with me," admitted Louis. "And by the way, I've been wonderin," he added, "how you came to not care what others think of you. The therapist mentioned it."

"Did he? Well, I want to be true to meself. I did a lot of thinkin' about it, and if I sit 'round worryin' what people think of me, then I'd be adjustin' me attitude to everyone I'm with. Tryin' to make them like me. Because I do have an urge to have people's approval. But it'll never happen that _everyone_ likes you. So I decided to be me, and let people talk behind me back if they wanted to."

Louis smiled, pleased with Haz's philosophy. His reasoning was sound. "And that's part of your charm. You're true to yourself no matter what someone else might think. You just flow through life with a smile, and that attracts people to you. All the people at the barbeque that were drawn to you is an example. And it wasn't like the gay club. They weren't after you sexually. They loved your candor. And I do too."

"Thank you," Harry looked relieved that Louis seemed to understand, so he continued "Also, I don't tie meself to certain attitudes about . . . masculinity and femininity. If I like the way a shirt looks on me, I buy it. I don't care if it's a woman's shirt or not."

"I noticed that, and I admire it. You are very masculine, but at the same time, you do spend some time in front of the mirror, fixin' your hair. You care about the way you look, unlike a lot of guys."

"Yeah, I don't care for untidy or dirty guys. That's another reason I was likin' you from the beginnin.' You take care of yourself. I could tell you had pride in yourself just by the way you walked that first day. The way you carry yourself. You have pride, and dignity."

"Not always dignity," Louis laughed. "When me temper flares, the dignity kinda takes a back seat."

"But you're a man, through and through. And I really liked your possessiveness in that bar. I meant to tell you that. You took no shit from any of those guys. You're fearless."

"Oh, I'm not fearless, Haz. Lots of things scare me. I just _act _like they don't."

"Well, just the same, when I'm with you, I feed off your confidence, and I feel invincible when you walk beside me."

Louis had never had quite an effusive compliment as that one, and, as he often did, he once again thanked God Harry had come into his life and was changing it in beautiful ways.


	38. Chapter 38

Louis still had not told his parents about Harry. He was afraid this amazing dream would turn out to be just that—a dream. That he'd wake up and it wouldn't be real. He really wanted his family to meet Harry, but it was too soon. Maybe Christmas time. That was a little over six months away. By then, he should know for sure if it was going to work. The thought of them flying to England together sounded really good.

He called his mum as he had planned to. His dad was at work, and he felt bad about that. But if he called when his dad was home, it would be the wee hours of the morning in California. He should have waited for the weekend . . . next time he'd do just that.

"Louis, you sound chuffed!" remarked his mum. So . . . mother always knew everything. She had sensed the happiness in his voice.

"Life is goin' well," he said by way of an answer. Should he tell her? Maybe the next call. Louis wasn't superstitious, but he didn't want to jinx anything by telling her too soon. He vacillated back and forth. So maybe he was a _little_ superstitious.

"I'm always so happy to hear your voice, and the weather is good there, yeah?"

"It's perfect. But then, California _usually _has perfect weather."

His mother had been to the US to visit once in the two years he'd been here, and had enjoyed it a lot, but had been just as eager to get home, even though her tears flowed freely at leaving her son. She was a true Brit. She had been baffled when there was no rain during her stay. Rain was a way of life for her.

"Are you eatin' your veggies?"

"Yes, mum," sighed Louis. She was always worried about his nutrition. She needn't have been, since Harry cooked for him and always made sure he got his vegetables. He had a sudden urge to tell her that, but kept himself in check. He was so damn proud of Harry that what he really wanted to do was tell the whole world.

"How are things in Donny?"

"Same as always. Your father is thinkin' of retirin' soon."

Hard for Louis to believe his father was near retirement age. But he was fifty-eight, after all. And his sister—when he thought of her it was mostly of when she'd been a little girl. Now she was grown and married. The years had evaporated, falling away in what seemed like only a moment.

When he rang off, fifteen minutes later, Harry wasn't in the room. He'd left to give Louis privacy. Through the window, Louis could see him in front of the apartment, hands in his front pockets, casually walking about as if as if he were a security guard at a place where there was little to no crime. He looked thoughtful and at ease. Louis found himself wondering if Harry felt comfortable-like this was home. He certainly acted like it.

Louis felt vulnerable now. As if his heart could be shredded so easily should Harry decide not to continue with their relationship. He was trying to be pragmatic and keep it real. But he found it very disturbing when he allowed his mind to even wander in that direction.

All the nights after the gym when Harry would cuddle up and whisper "kissy" were making Louis softer than he ever dreamed he would be. Louis was finding out that he was taking to romance quite naturally.

But he still had to be careful about sex. He was leery of approaching Harry with the intention of touching him in certain ways because Harry had been abused. Not that he wasn't completely happy with how things were, because he was. But he and Harry did need to talk about where the boundaries would be.

He went outside. "Ready to walk some dogs?"

Harry's face lit up, his dimples drawing Louis in. "Sure!"

It was getting warmer and warmer. The first of June was upon them and it was unseasonably hot. A few days had already nearly reached one hundred degrees. July was usually the hottest month, with August sometimes trumping it. Suddenly, they were having to turn the air conditioning on most days.

They had been helping the landlord out with trimming bushes one day when it was ninety-eight degrees. The sweat ran down their temples, their faces were red, and the landlord chided them for not putting on sunscreen. They were almost done though, and looking forward to the inside of the apartment, which was set at seventy-five degrees.

The landlord offered them some money off their rent for their help, but Louis, following Harry's example, refused, saying that they were privileged to live in this nice building and felt it was the least they could do. The gruff landlord didn't comment, but Louis got the impression his estimation of them had risen.

As they handed the heavy duty clippers back to the landlord and trudged toward their apartment, wrung out from the heat, each got a whiff of the other's sweat, and consequently, both became aroused. Pheromones, Louis supposed.

"Shower or no?" asked Louis as they entered the apartment. Harry was already tearing his clothes off.

"Well, depends on how you feel about it, but if I'm to give me opinion, I would say no, not just yet."

Ah, seemed as if Harry was of the same mind as he.

"A man after me own heart," Louis smiled. "Bring it in." Harry and Louis hugged, and then worked together to get Louis' clothes off.

The salty taste of each other's sweat brought more arousal, and they kissed and licked each other, laughing and tickling, the rich, earthy aroma of their own distinctive scents egging them on to better, more involved things.

Ending up in the bedroom Louis held him so close that Harry wondered if all the air might be compressed from his lungs. But he didn't care. The closer he was to Louis, the better. Genuine affection along with desire was intoxicating.

Harry sensed a kind of desperation in Louis that bordered on anguish. It was as if Louis didn't want to let go of him for even a second.

"Lou?" said Harry softly, trying to filter through Louis' deep breaths and what seemed like agonized groans to discover what was affecting him so strongly.

"I want you with me always," Louis just let the words flow, no longer willing to let them sit and fester in his heart. He wanted to air it all. His fears, his insecurities, his drive to make things permanent with Harry. There were so many things he didn't yet know. Did Harry feel as strongly as he did? Did Harry love him as much as he loved Harry? So strongly that his heart felt like mush?

Harry had told someone at the gay club that he and Louis were exclusive, but did he really mean it? Louis felt he might have to put up with the misery until he could lay it on thick. Tell Harry how he truly felt. All of it. Right now, he didn't want to make any lethal mistakes that might threaten their relationship. He hadn't felt like a little child in so long . .. and in some ways, Harry brought that little child out in him again.

There was a peace within Harry that Louis found fascinating. In his world, where he'd always been wired and ready for whatever life threw at him, Louis found solace in Harry. Harry centered him and kept him sane.

This was a maturing love, but it lacked complete confidence. Harry felt it oozing from Louis' pores—this need. This unspoken yearning for an unashamed declaration of love from him. That was precisely what Harry was ready to give, but what if the vibe he felt was wrong? What if Louis was feeling so acutely over something else entirely? They'd already said their "I love yous" but was that the issue, or something else? Harry didn't want to seem presumptive.

He couldn't just assume, so he stayed silent and held onto Louis just as tightly as Louis held him. Trying to convey that he was here for whatever Louis was ready to spill. Some deep dark secret? Harry could execute a resilience and steadiness that Louis could grasp and hang onto. But with Louis in his current state of apparent hesitancy, Harry felt he should wait it out for Louis to tell him willingly, without coaxing or prodding.

They talked for a long time. Only about random things though. Louis didn't want to come off as needy, and that was exactly how he was feeling, so he felt they should touch on other personal subjects, and then work their way up to more serious matters.

Harry asked Louis about his heritage. English, of course, Belgium Flemish and Irish as well. Harry perked up and his eyes glittered.

"The Irish shows!" he exclaimed.

"How's that?"

"You can be dark, brooding, but with the Celtic sensitivity! I should have known it!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Louis wasn't so sure about that, but played along. "Well, I believe it's a low percentage, but you could be bringin' it out in me . . . the sensitivity. I think you're the only one besides me family that I've shown it to."

Self-satisfied, Harry looked a little smug.

"What is your heritage?" asked Louis.

"As far as I know, all English. I didn't ask me parents about it in depth. I was still young, and not interested in that sort of thing yet. Now I wish I had." Louis suspected there was more hurt there at the loss of his parents than his lover let on.

"What are some things you like about me?" asked Harry.

"Is this a trick question?" Harry shook his head, looking solemn enough.

"Okay, then, that's easy. Your cookin, your cleanin.'" Louis taunted him.

"Come on, Lou. I mean stuff other than that."

Louis' face became more earnest. "Well, your love of hot cocoa and other unique things, your tenderness and compassion, and, okay, even when you ask for a kissy."

Harry laughed, as Louis knew he would.

"What about me?" asked Louis, just a little jittery about what Harry might say.

"I like how you act tough, but are really a kitten underneath. The celtic sensitivity thing again. Also, the way you're patient with me—sometimes, anyway, and the way you love to have our stare-downs."

"That's love combined with lust, mate."

"It's sweet and hot, not rough and tough."

"True, that."

Louis wasn't even sure, at this point in time, if they were even going to make love. It had started out as an urgent need, and then had softened into affectionate conversation. And he had to admit to himself that it felt very good, even _without_ sex.

"I love the way you're tryin' to teach me to cook," Louis decided to add. "But when you stand next to me with a boner and hard nipples, it's difficult to retain information."

Harry laughed again, his dimples melting Louis down to almost nothing.

"I have a hard-on for you more often than I want to admit," Harry divulged.

"Ditto."

They were good for each other. Louis was teaching Harry to be more independent and responsible, Harry was teaching him to cook, and more importantly, how to love. Harry was very self-reliant now, running errands often on his own, and taking responsibility for healthy eating for the both of them. He was a far cry from the somewhat timid, yet very charming guy Louis had met a few months ago, who was very unsatisfied with the band he was with, and kind of stuck in a rut because of it.

Now he was happy with his lot—in a band that enabled him to reach for his full potential. He was in a relationship where his room mate slash lover made him excited for the future. His stress level had leveled out at the lowest it had been since back when he'd lived in England.

Louis' fingers traveled down Harry's spine as they sat on the edge of the bed, still holding each other close. It always made Harry shiver, but this time he felt something extra. There had been hints of it before, but this time it was especially intense. It was as if Louis' fingers were lovingly caressing the keys of a piano, perhaps. Much slower though. So slow that he spent a full second touching each vertebrae.

A strong feeling accompanied Louis' touch. It came from within, made Harry gasp and arch his back a little, causing him to move ever closer. He couldn't help it.

"Feel that?" Louis asked in a very sexy whisper. Harry wasn't sure what Louis was referring to, but he assumed it was the way Louis was touching him. It_ had _to be.

"Yes!" Harry whispered back enthusiastically.

"Well, guess what? I've never touched anyone like this before."

Harry took this for what it was-a supreme compliment. He felt worthy of Louis' loving touch. And nothing could have made him happier.

"Love . . . " Harry sounded as if he was talking to himself. "What is it, really?"

Louis tried not to show too much reaction, as this was precisely what had been on his own mind.

Louis began very cautiously. "You . . . you told me you loved me. And now you're askin' me what it is?" He felt a rise despite himself. Even though he'd been having similar thoughts, Harry shouldn't have spoken those words out loud, despite Louis having a feeling he was probably being hyper-sensitive about it.

"Well, I assume it's love, as it's stronger than any emotion I've ever had. But really, does proper love feel like this?"

How was Louis to answer? He couldn't get inside Harry to see how he was feeling. He only knew how he _himself _felt.

Trying to tamp down his slight annoyance, Louis attempted to explain.

"Well, with me, it's stronger than anything—like you said. It's being willin' to do anything for that person, make any sacrifice, put their needs first over your own. Why tell me you love me if you don't know what it is?" Louis couldn't seem to stop himself from saying the words, even knowing it wasn't fair to Harry.

Louis had stopped hugging him without realizing it. He'd sat back to sit beside him again.

"Lou, how does_ anyone _know what it is? You just have to assume, yeah? Assume that the strong intense feelins' must be love."

"You mean when we were huggin'? That feelin'?" asked Louis.

"Yeah. That, and a lot of other things. Like feelin' me heart race when you come in the door, or feelin' all this affection when I see you comfy on the couch, waitin' for me to come and cuddle, to watch telly together."

Okay, Harry was onto something. Louis had been wrong. Harry was just wanting to know if Louis was feeling the same emotions he was. Louis was guilty of an old habit—suspicion. Lack of trust. It had sprung forward without him even taking the time to analyze it. He should be shot!

"I'm sorry, Haz. I thought you were questionin' your love for me. And mine for you. But now I see what you mean. I feel the same things you do. The things you mentioned . . . it affects me in the same way. For instance, when you come out of the bathroom with a towel around your waist and another wrapped around your hair, I feel immense affection. Me heart twitches in a way that's different than if you were a cute puppy or a little kid. When you stand behind me and guide me hands when I'm cookin' I feel special, and, I guess, loved."

He waited for a response from Harry. Harry was full of introspection—Louis read it on his face.

"Guess? Why would you question me love for you?" Harry's voice was almost stony. In horror, Louis realized things had turned completely around, taken a different spin. Harry's beautiful green eyes were sharp, watching Louis' face intently.

"I wasn't—not really. But _you _were the one who asked _me _what love is!" Louis was losing his patience.

"Well, are we supposed to just _assume_ we love each other? Without really knowin' without a single doubt?"

"Harry, if we keep this up, I have a feelin' things are gonna get heated. Maybe we should stop."

"What, stop, and hope the subject doesn't come up again? Never address it?"

Things weren't going well. And Louis was afraid it was about to get worse. How, for fuck's sake had they gotten into an argument about being in love with each other? If it weren't so serious, it would be almost comical. Just moments ago they'd been trading traits they liked in each other.

His doubts had bitten him in the ass. Did this kind of thing really happen to people?

"This is ridiculous!" he protested. "Analyzin' . . . we're analyzin' too much. And we're gonna damage our feelin's for each other if we keep this up. We have to keep bein' affectionate, and we need to stop this straight away! It's stupid, really."

Harry took a moment to digest this. "Yeah, it is stupid, I agree. But what if we find out that we _thought _we were really in love, and we weren't?"

Louis wanted to bang his head against the wall, tear his hair out. As it was, he was grinding his teeth. No one he'd ever known had ever been as persistent as Harry once he got onto a subject that mattered to him. He picked things apart mercilessly. And he wouldn't leave it alone until he fully understood, and had the answers. But in this case, Louis was afraid there were no answers forthcoming. Could _anyone _say what love was? Concretely? Were there even adequate words for it? In any language?

Now Harry had him overthinking again. And if this continued—and knowing Harry, it would, someone was sure to end up raising their voice, and one or both could get their feelings seriously hurt. It could even break them up.

Oh, Louis couldn't even bear to think of that! So, immediately, Louis spilled all his thoughts over the last few minutes to Harry, every fond one of them, reiterating everything positive he'd already said, ending with how much he feared they could break up.

When at first Harry had been clearly flustered and a little bit angry too, his attitude shifted now.

"There! I've said it all! You know exactly what's in me heart. It _has_ to be love, baby. If only I could prove it. It's surely love, comin' from both sides."

Harry shook his head in wonder. "You know what we just did? We accused each other of not knowin' what proper love is, and therefore assumin' one didn't love the other!"

"Stupid, wasn't it?"

Harry threw himself in Louis' arms once again, and peace descended on them. Communication—if Louis hadn't been brutally honest like he'd been, there might still be misunderstanding and hurt. This was turning into a lesson for Louis. He should have known never to question Harry about something so paramount. Harry's questioning had been honest curiosity, whereas Louis' had been fear.

Now, he didn't doubt Harry loved him for a minute. Harry was inclined to ask questions, and he always would be. Louis realized he was actually happy it was that way, because, hopefully, his sweet, curly haired lover would remain an open book to him. He didn't want secrets between them—secrets that could lead to resentment. Undisguised desire to be truthful and talking things over, no matter how small the problem might seem, might be the answer to a long-lasting love that neither of them would ever doubt. Harry was looking for _real_ answers, and Louis would give them to the best of his ability, because his lover meant to much to him to keep anything hidden away.


	39. Chapter 39

They made love slowly, licking the salt off each other's skin and sighing, the joy of it bringing them solace after the misunderstanding they'd had. Louis didn't think Harry was capable of holding a grudge. Now that Harry understood Louis' point of view, he was right back on track again, cuddling, cooing, and touching Louis' face with tender fingers, tracing his jawline and cheeks as if he worshipped him.

Louis' voice was unexpectedly hoarse when he spoke.

"I really like this. The way we seem to feel what the other feels, and sometimes read each other's minds. I like the freedom of complete honesty. I've never had it before with anyone."

"It must be freein' for you."

"It is," Louis smiled at Harry's perceptiveness. "I can be meself; same thing you say about yourself. It just took me a hell of a lot longer!"

True, Harry had probably always been true to himself. Louis had only recently realized the benefits—not only to himself, but to other people he communicated with. But mainly Harry. He continued to use caution not to offend Harry, but if he used the right words, and was considerate, he felt he could more or less tell Harry anything. Harry was so forgiving and really made an effort to get into his head.

Louis reached down and took both their cocks in his hand, stroking gently. Their pre-come was more than enough lubrication. Harry, eyes wide, moved his hips because it felt so good, and he really couldn't help it anyway, and they were soon in a rhythm. A rhythm that built to a faster pace, and soon had them both gasping. Louis used his free hand to caress Harry's balls, causing more gasps of delight.

"Oh my God, Lou," Harry panted with his head thrown back. Completely uninhibited. Louis adored that. He looked like a wild man with the long hair and fateful green eyes. But such a beautiful wild man. He wanted to photograph Harry, film him, in these moments of complete abandon and pleasure. Most of all, he wanted the images imprinted on his brain. Harry was so sexy yet pure looking; the two traits blending together, and Louis thought he'd never seen a person so perfect.

"Faster?" asked Louis, his pupils huge, his "I wanna eat you up" look dominating his face.

"Yeah," Harry forced the words out because he was putting everything into throwing himself into the feeling.

Louis' hand was flying now, and both their cocks hardened even more than they already were, at the same time. So Louis had ample warning that they were going to come very close together.

When they finally burst, Louis opened his mouth, catching stream after stream. He didn't even know who's stream it was—or maybe both of them, but he didn't care. He was that turned on.

Harry was shocked, but being in the middle of coming, he didn't say anything, _couldn't _say anything. It just made his orgasm that much more intense to see Louis doing something so wickedly sexy.

Afterwards, they both had to catch their breaths. It had taken everything out of them. Loud panting filled the room.

Harry was finally able to talk after some minutes. "Did you . . . did you, um, I mean, I think you got both!" he was staring at Louis as if he was some kind of phenomenon.

"Tasted damn good, that's all I know," Louis wiped the come from the rest of his face after grabbing a tissue from the nightstand.

"What do you call that?" Harry asked.

Louis laughed. "I don't know. I really don't think there's a word or expression for it. I've never done it with anyone before. All I know is that it was hot as fuck!"

He went to kiss Harry, and Harry pulled back playfully. "You probably still have _mine_ in your mouth," and he made a face.

"What, you don't mind mine, but you don't want yours?" Louis teased him. "Harry, it's _erotic_."

Harry was easily convinced, and kissed him eagerly then, tongues and all.

"I reckon you're right. It doesn't really bother me. And yeah, it's hot!" Harry said afterward.

"We can find plenty of other erotic things to do too," Louis measured his words and was heedful of Harry's feelings. He didn't want to turn him off.

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I think it's better to just wait for the right moment, don't you?"

A glimpse of wariness crossed Harry's face, but soon disappeared. This was _Louis, _not some guy who was going to be forceful regardless of what Harry wanted or didn't want.

"Harry, I know that look on your face. I'd never do anything you don't want me to do, and I would hope you would tell me if sommat ever made you feel less than comfortable."

Harry relaxed then. He had things in the back of his mind, and most likely, sometimes in the forefront of his mind too, and Louis never forgot that. He had to be handled carefully and lovingly.

"Bring it in, baby," Louis held Harry and they cuddled for a while until neither one could stand the stickiness any longer, and they took a shower together. This was the first one they'd shared. Before this, they'd always bathed separately.

And it was the ultimate sensual experience. The body wash was Oil of Olay, so it was very creamy and slippery. They worked it over each other's body, from neck to toe, and when they washed each other's cocks, they hardened almost instantly.

Then they washed each other's hair. Even that was intimate. Louis made sure he made everything, every little thing, a good experience for Harry.

"Ready again?" asked Louis, eyes glittering, and dropping to his knees without giving Harry a chance to reply or even to question it. "One of the perks of bein' young."

Harry groaned, gave little cries and sobs as Louis' skilled mouth worked him over. It was almost too much stimulation. Louis took him all the way down, then pulled back, sucking hard. It took a little longer for Harry to come this time, but that gave him the opportunity to enjoy it all the more. He braced his hands on the shower walls, his legs refusing to hold him up. He shook and quivered all over.

He thrust and pistoned himself in and out of Louis' mouth, losing himself in sensation. Louis was moaning as much as he was. And when Harry blew his wad, making sensual animal sounds, he sagged for a moment, and then dropped to his own knees, pushing Louis back to a standing position. Louis had no time to protest as his cock disappeared into Harry's mouth. Harry did his best to deep-throat Louis, and even though he clearly needed practice, Louis was delighted. It didn't really matter because Harry could have turned Louis on by just stroking his arm. His sometimes-hesitancy drove Louis wild. It was a kind of tease. The waiting, the anticipation. But really, a long, intimate sucking was all Louis needed to explode. Didn't have to be anything fancy.

By the time they got out of the shower, they were both knackered. Louis knew he could easily do this two or three more times tonight, but he held himself in check. Harry needed to be introduced to this at a little slower pace, although by now it was obvious that Harry had a downright wickedly naughty streak. And Louis bet he could get even naughtier.

"C'mere," Louis prompted, and Harry exited the shower, Louis wrapping him in an extra thick, downy towel. Then he handed him another towel for his hair. Harry felt pampered, and a little guilty because of it, although he enjoyed it. They busied themselves with drying off, and realized it was too early for dinner, so they decided to take a nap together.

Once in bed, Louis nuzzled the back of Harry's neck, blowing raspberries and making Harry yelp, goose bumps popping up. Louis also wanted to fondle Harry's ass, but he was afraid he'd freak Harry out. Best to leave that for another time somewhere down the road. He wanted to make Harry feel good in any way he could. In his book, Harry deserved the world. He also wanted to be the best Harry had ever had. Although, from the sounds of it, he didn't have much competition. Harry hadn't even known what tenderness in lovemaking was. It was really quite sad, but Louis was so grateful that he'd had the honor of being the one to give it to him.

They met Brooke and Aaron at the Red Robin restaurant the next Monday, and they had also made plans to have them see Harry sing the following weekend.

"We were going to ask you to the Cask and Cleaver, but figured that was too fancy," Brooke admitted.

"If you'd done that, we'd have had to go dutch. We wouldn't let you pay for it all. That place is so expensive," said Louis. "We're not hard to please. Good food is good food."

"But we really, really like you guys," was Brooke's answer.

She didn't have to try to buy their friendship. Louis wished she knew that. They would have been friends with them anyway, even if they'd taken them to McDonald's. But he didn't say anything for fear he'd get tongue-tied and it might not come out right. He felt so honored though . . .

Harry was still in shock from the Cask and Cleaver comment. He'd only been there once. He'd been impressed by how fancy it was, but not overly so. He honestly felt more at home at a more casual place. He smiled shyly, and Louis' hand landed on his leg. He knew Louis was reassuring him—reminding him he was there, right beside him. So Harry hooked his ankle around Louis,' and even though this was a public place, Louis didn't object a bit. Harry sensed genuine happiness in Louis. He wondered if Louis knew just how happy he, himself was. He'd never had anything close to this with another man. Or woman either, obviously. It was so thrilling to have this close of a connection. He hadn't thought it obtainable. And this was especially true considering Harry had no family. Louis _was _his family.

Louis pictured the two of them having kids some day. Adopted, of course, but he did long for the real thing, silly as it might sound. Their own, biological kids. Wouldn't that be something? With Harry's dimples. Yes, definitely. And the curly hair too. He wished it was possible. He didn't even know if Harry liked kids, but he was pretty certain he did, because he loved animals. The two usually went together.

Aaron and Brooke held hands on the table before their meals were served, as they'd done the last time the four of them had gone out to eat, and as Louis watched their entwined fingers, he once again yearned to do the same with Harry. Why couldn't they? Because they'd get strange looks and probably whispers too. It didn't seem fair. They had to act like "friends" and not reveal their real feelings for each other. It made his heart ache. Being gay really was agonizing when these thoughts intruded.

"Are you guys out? I mean, like openly?" asked Brooke, interrupting Louis' thoughts.

"Sadly, no. Harry is out, but I'm not . . . not yet," Louis gave Harry a sidelong glance, but Harry didn't look to be disturbed by the subject. He was accepting, as was usually the case.

"He'll get bold enough some day," Harry remarked, seemingly unconcerned with the timeline, smiling sincerely at Louis with those dimples. "I'm in no hurry."

"I'm not ashamed of it or anything. I'm just not ready yet." Louis felt as if he had to explain himself.

"Oh, I understand that," Brooke said brightly. She had less make-up on tonight, and she wasn't dressed as revealingly as she often had been. Her hair was in soft waves, and the bracelets on her wrists tinkled pleasantly. She really was a pretty girl.

As if she could read Louis' mind, she said, "Aaron suggested I look just as good with a little less make-up. He's so sweet," she threw a smile at her boyfriend. "So I decided to take him up on it tonight. He wasn't pushy about it or anything," she was quick to add.

"I like it a lot," said Harry. Louis nodded his agreement.

"You look just as beautiful without any make-up at all," Aaron contributed.

"Oh Aaron! You're embarrassing me! I look all white and pasty without any make-up!"

"No you don't. I like you no matter how much or little you have on . . . your face, that is," he quickly amended, blushing to the roots of his dark hair. They all laughed.

The four of them seemed to have more fun each time they got together. Conversation flowed easily. Dinner was a lively experience, with everyone talking in turns, animated and happy.

Harry imagined his band mates being here too, although it was fine the way things were. He was anxious for Brooke and Aaron to meet the guys in his band, and just a little nervous about them seeing him perform. But he knew that once he was on that stage, his stage persona would emerge, and he'd get lost in the music. He just hoped they would like his singing and the music.

There were bench seats at this particular restaurant, and Louis noticed himself inching closer to Harry every chance he got. He supposed he was unconsciously beginning the process of "coming out," although very slowly. He didn't know how it was done, so he just let nature guide him. And nature told him to be as close as possible to Harry. Harry responded by welcoming him in until their hips were touching. It didn't escape Brooke.

"You two are so cute together!" she repeated the exact words she'd said once before.

By the time they had dessert, Louis had his left arm along the seat behind Harry as he ate with his right hand. Baby steps. But he liked it. And he didn't find himself caring that much about what people might be thinking either.

Harry just ate it up. Louis had never seen him smile so much, and that was saying something, as Harry smiled a great deal of the time. It felt so natural to them both. Louis would never kiss Harry here, but he could throw off enough affectionate hints that an observant person would know immediately that they were a gay couple. And it thrilled Louis to no end. What a huge change from only a week ago!

With dinner being over, Louis, Harry and Brooke chatted as Aaron paid the bill with a credit card.

"What time should we be there Saturday?" Brooke asked Harry.

"We start playin' at nine, but you can come whenever you want. If you want to have drinks earlier, that's fine. You're takin' a taxi, right?"

"We were going to, but we decided we'd try an Uber. Neither one of us has before," Brooke giggled.

"An adventure!" Harry remarked. "Lou and I will have to try it sometime. I don't know if he's ever taken one before."

"No, I haven't. And that'll be on our bucket list," he poked Harry in the ribs, making him laugh. Harry was ticklish.

Things had gone wonderfully all evening, but when Harry and Louis got home that night, they had their first argument. Well, significant argument, that is. Not just a little spat.

Louis, as usual, threw his clothes on the bedroom floor as he undressed for bed.

Harry, without really stopping to think about it, blurted out, "Why do you do that?" He said it quietly, but Louis took note of his eyes. They glinted a deeper emerald, full of sparks.

"I don't know—I've always done it," Louis' answer was a bit flippant, and it frayed Harry's nerves.

"The clothes hamper is in the bathroom—only a few feet away from you! And if they're not dirty, it's just as easy to hang them back up again in the closet."

It was true—this bedroom had a bathroom off of it, and Louis would only have had to take a few steps. It was now that Louis realized just how disgruntled Harry was becoming.

"So you think you're gonna change me, make me do things the same way you do? When I've done just fine up until you moved in without your_ helpful_ advice?"

Harry was taken aback at Louis' sharp retort. He tried not to show how it stung.

"I was just tryin' to make things easier. If you do what I do, you won't have to be pickin' up your messes all the time. Or rather, _we _won't be pickin' 'em up all the time."

Now Louis was pissed off. "So now you're resentin' me?" he challenged, his blue eyes blazing to match Harry's.

"No, you're exaggeratin,' I don't resent you. I just don't understand your actions."

"So I'm a little bit messy. Lots of people are. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No, of course not," Harry shifted from one foot to the other. Louis was quite formidable looking when he was angry. And it wasn't pleasant at all when it was directed at him. He wished now that he hadn't said anything.

"Then why are you makin' me _feel_ like a bloody criminal or sommat?"

Harry sighed. "I just . . . I just thought it would be easier to do things the right way the first time instead of tryin' to undo . . . the, the . . . _disarray."_

"You saw me apartment when I brought you home for the first time—on that rainy night. You didn't seem to mind it _then._ And you even moved in with me. So the 'disarray' I cause can't possibly be _that _bad!"

Harry felt backed into a corner. But it was a corner he, himself had created. He'd found fault with Louis, and Louis was right. He should have said something a long time ago, or not moved in with him if it was such a problem. It _really_ wasn't such a problem, just a little annoyance that he could live with. But if he said that now, he doubted Louis would believe him.

Now he had Louis bristling over a few clothes tossed onto the floor. Sometimes newspapers or magazines, the occasional book. And well, shoes too. But was it really that important? Shouldn't he be grateful instead of critical? Grateful for such a good friend, room mate, and most important, lover. He felt like shit.

Louis laughed, but there wasn't a trace of humor in it. "Gotcha to thinkin' didn't I?" his voice was mocking, and Harry hated seeing Louis like this, knowing _he'd_ caused it.

He walked out of Louis' bedroom without a word, and Louis wondered if he was going to ghost on him. In fact, he was_ terrified_ of it.

"Look, this is . . . " Louis was going to say the whole thing was stupid, but Harry had closed the bedroom door behind him. Louis didn't pursue him. He sat on the edge of his bed and thought about what he'd said to Harry. The mean, thoughtless things.

They should have made up a list of rules before moving in together. Harry wasn't being unreasonable in asking Louis not to mess the place up, try to keep it halfway neat, especially when Harry so often was the one picking up after him.

He never heard Harry go out the front door, never heard the jangle of his keys. When he opened his door quietly, he could see the living room from his bedroom, and Harry wasn't there. He saw that Harry's bedroom door was closed. Then it dawned on him that Harry had gone into his own bedroom. He hadn't slept in there in weeks. This was the ultimate downer, and it cut like a knife. He could so clearly imagine Harry in there, hugging his teddy bear instead of him . . .


	40. Chapter 40

Well, now . . . that was _two_ arguments they'd had; that was if you didn't count the spat about the wet kitchen floor. Harry knew everyone had disagreements, but this one had been the worst, and he'd ended up in his bedroom. For weeks, he'd only gone in there to grab some clothes. His teddy bear had sat neglected on his night stand. He had it in his arms now, wishing it was Louis.

He shouldn't have said what he had. And even worse, he hadn't even apologized. He felt it was on him, as he'd been the one to start the fight. He hadn't handled it well at all. He wanted to go back in Louis' room and say he was sorry in the worst way, but it would be weird to say it, and then walk right back out again. But he'd _have_ to leave, as staying wouldn't be an option. He had felt very unwelcome in Louis' room. Louis' eyes had practically scorched him.

Harry didn't leave his room to go to the living room to watch telly. And he heard no noise coming from Louis at all. The place was eerily silent. He wondered what he was going to do for the next few hours. He knew he couldn't go to sleep this early. It was only nine. He and Louis usually stayed up fairly late.

He ended up letting his mind go all over the place, dredging up all kinds of disturbing possibilities, like Louis asking him to move out, saying their relationship wasn't going to work out. He'd have to find an apartment, leaving the love of his life behind.

He admonished himself for thinking of the worst scenario, but they'd never had a fight like this before. Not even close. He couldn't imagine a life without walking dogs, seeing Louis watching him at practice and at performances, regularly picking up their hot cocoa, cuddling on the couch . . . doing their staring thing. That was when Harry started to cry. He buried his head in his pillow so Louis wouldn't hear him.

Louis had hoped things would magically be all fixed by the next morning. Foolish of him, because that wasn't the way it happened. They barely spoke to each other. A barely-there "Mornin,'" uttered on both their parts, then they took turns in the shower before starting the day. They each ate a bowl of cereal. Louis ate his on the couch, leaving Harry at the dining table alone.

Walking the dogs was like a bad dream. Harry walked behind Louis instead of beside him, and neither one said a word for the entire four hours they walked. Harry gave Trinket, the tiny Shih Tzu extra cuddles, as if that would help to heal his heart. It helped, but he needed Louis' touch a lot more.

They stood inside the dog park watching the dogs romp, but barely acknowledged each other. Brooke was there with Peanut, as it was one of her days off. Within ten minutes, she yanked Harry off to the side, out of Louis' hearing.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

Harry didn't mind telling her the bare bones about it. "Oh, just a little misunderstandin,'" he half-ass explained.

"I've never seen you two so . . . detached before!" she looked truly devastated. "I mean, it's awful to witness!"

"Well, we haven't talked since the fight last night."

"Fight? You said misunderstanding! Harry, tell me what happened! I know I'm nosy, but this time it's more that. I'm worried about you two. You're such a sweet couple. I'd hate to see you two split up or something!"

Harry actually grimaced when she said the words "split up." It just reinforced his own fears.

"I mean," Brooke back-pedaled quickly. "I don't think that'll ever happen. You love each other too much. But, Harry?" her eyes pleaded with him.

"It was simple. I just complained about Louis bein' messy, and it escalated into a . . . spat."

"Is that all?" Brooke looked dumbstruck. "That's nothing that can't be fixed! Why didn't you two make up? You _did_ say you were sorry, didn't you?"

Shit. Just another bitter reminder. It was his fault for not having said he was sorry. He was only too aware of it without having it brought up.

"I left his room abruptly, and went into me own bedroom, so no, it didn't get said."

Brooke worried at her lower lip with her teeth. She wasn't going to let this stupid argument come between her cherished friends.

"Well, we're gonna have to fix this!" she said with firm resolution. Harry could see Louis watching them with artful discretion, no doubt wondering what was being said.

"Brooke, no! We have to do it ourselves," Harry said before she marched over to Louis. The last thing they needed was for Brooke to force them together and demand that they make up. It wasn't natural. And it would be very, very awkward.

Brooke, strong-willed as she was, knew to back off at this juncture. "Okay, I can understand your point. But be sure you _do it_!" She poked Harry's chest with her finger to drive the point home. She jogged off to get Peanut, after explaining she had to make a run to the grocery store.

Of course, Harry didn't go to Louis to apologize, and Louis didn't ask him what Brooke had been saying to him.

The longer things continued this way, the harder it would be to talk about it and make up, mused Harry. And he had been wrong. He'd jumped on Louis for something he'd kept inside for way too long. If he'd said something early on, they wouldn't be in this mess. Louis might still be making messes, but he would probably also be begrudgingly cleaning them up just to make Harry happy and to keep the peace.

By remaining silent, Harry knew the both of them were being obstinate. And this could lead to nothing good.

But still, the ice wasn't broken because Harry couldn't think of a thing to say without sounding like an idiot. They went to the gym that night without even mentioning it. Louis simply came out of his bedroom in his gym clothes and waited for Harry to change in his own gym clothes. They hadn't talked at the gym at all, and when it was time to go, Louis simply said, "Ready?" and Harry nodded. Louis' voice had sounded completely neutral—almost indifferent. That scared Harry most of all.

They did the same thing every night that week. Harry cooked dinner, and Louis took his plate to the couch. After eating, Louis did the dishes, his cold eyes silently forbidding Harry to enter the kitchen. Then they went into their prospective bedrooms. Harry had brought a small telly from his old apartment that he'd forgotten about. It had been in his closet, so he brought it out and hooked it up. Meanwhile, Louis read a book or just stared at the ceiling in his own room while lying on his back, thoughts flashing in and out of his mind at warp speed.

When the weekend came up, there wasn't much they could do about Aaron and Brooke going to see Harry sing. They'd already invited them, and were committed. They'd just have to try their best to act normal and unaffected, as if nothing had happened, even though they knew Brooke would see right through their act.

Harry wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned almost to his navel. His silver cross, the subtle accessory he never removed, rested on his chest, his hair was shiny and a little more wavy than usual, and he looked devastating. His black skinny jeans just upped his sexiness by several degrees. And those boots—Harry had several pair, and these were mahogany cowboy boots with handsome designs. Harry practically oozed sex, and it lured Louis no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Louis was wearing a plain tee-shirt and jeans. Harry supposed the Doncaster lad was being rebellious this time, because he usually dressed up a little, at least, for Harry's performances.

They met Brooke and Aaron at the nightclub, and Harry found them a booth near the stage, then left them there to go backstage to prepare for the show.

They were half an hour early, as planned, having drinks. Brooke had a cocktail of some sort and Aaron and Louis drank beer. Louis felt Brooke's eyes on him as sharply as if she had stabbed him. There was no avoiding her.

He knew it was coming at any second, so he braced himself for it. "Louis, I need to talk to you!" Brooke said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. He felt like flattening out on the floor, like a submissive dog.

She began to get up to go outside of the club. Louis dug his heels in.

"No. There's really nothin' to talk about."

Aaron looked uncomfortable, so Louis assumed Brooke had told him what was going on. Louis had no idea what she'd said to Harry at the dog park. There wasn't that much to tell anyway. It was all so massively stupid.

"Do you want me to say it in front of Aaron then?" she demanded, not relenting for a moment.

"If you have to . . . then go ahead," Louis sounded almost despondent. He stared straight ahead as if he was semi-comatose.

"Are you guys still upset about that argument you had, or is it something else now?"

Louis, coming somewhat out of his catatonic state, cleared his throat, wiggling in his seat in an abashed kind of way. "Nothin' else. Same thing," his voice was clipped.

"How moronic _are _you guys? Will no one apologize?" Brooke was exasperated by now. Aaron tried to calm her with a hand around her shoulder, but she shunned his effort, all her attention on Louis. Louis said nothing. What could he say to that, anyway? She was right. They were idiots.

"I thought for sure Harry would have come to you by now," she muttered, disappointment highlighted in her voice's inflection.

"Oh?" Louis decided playing stupid would earn him more information.

Brooke heaved a big sign. "I told him to go to you and apologize. Life is too short for this shit, Louis," her face had taken on a sad puppy dog look. "One of you has to be man enough to apologize, no matter who's fault it was. That isn't the important thing here anyway. You two have to make up. I'm telling you—you two were made for each other." She looked so mournful, and Louis couldn't stand the thought of her evening being ruined.

"She knows these things," said Aaron quietly, nodding his head slowly at Louis. Aaron suddenly looked a bit like a wise owl.

He was being incredibly selfish, he realized in an instant. Brooke had been so excited to see Harry sing, and now she wasn't going to be able to enjoy it as much as she otherwise would have.

Louis left the table, signaling he'd be right back, and went up the steps at the side of the stage. But he was too late. The show was starting. The band started tuning up their instruments, and Harry walked onstage right at that moment, and there was no way Louis was going to walk up to Harry onstage. He'd been hoping to catch him backstage.

So . . . the moment was lost. He doubted Harry saw him come back down the steps and back to the booth. Harry was now busy talking to the audience, making little jokes (thank goodness none of them were knock-knock jokes) and generally being adorable—the thing he did best. The audience really didn't care _what_ he said, as long as he kept talking and engaging with them.

Harry had a hell of a lot of fortitude, mused Louis. He acted the same way he always acted onstage—confident and self-assured, even with circumstances the way they were with his lover. Louis admired that. He did right by his fans, not wanting to disappoint them.

After a few minutes of chatter, Harry announced a new song.

"I'm gonna start tonight out with a song I wrote after spendin' some time with someone very special to me whilst we were in the mountains."

Louis gasped. _What? _This, he had not expected _at all._

"And it's called Sittin' on a Rock," Harry continued. Louis didn't know whether Harry had written the song with the intention to be light-hearted or on the serious side, but one thing was for sure—he was engrossed now, and couldn't wait to hear it.

Harry wasted no time. He signaled the band and the melody began. It didn't have a rock sound and it wasn't a ballad. It was somewhere in between.

"_Sittin' on a rock at a mountain stream,_

_Never knew I'd be sittin' on a dream._

_A dream of a whirlwind romance that began in the rain_

_My love has me smitten, messin' with me brain._

_A dead battery, a robber, wearin' a blazer to Starbucks to impress_

_Hot cocoa and a teddy bear too-this all led to an eventual caress._

The chorus began

_Wish I knew how this would all turn out_

_He has me tied up in knots, within and without_

_His charmin' ways, his effort to conceal_

_Oh please, Lord have mercy, let this be real._

_Wish I knew how this would all turn out_

_He has me tied up in knots, within and without_

_His charmin' ways, his effort to conceal_

_Oh please, Lord have mercy, let this be real._

And on to the final verse

_Goin' to a barbeque, workin' out at the gym_

_Teasin' and starin' at each other—who knew it would be him?_

_Afraid to hope that this might last at least a little while_

_Would've sold me soul to the devil, was he tryin' to beguile?_

_I thought he meant it, that he needed me as much_

_And I swore I felt all the feels in his touch_

The chorus once more, and then It was over. It was a simple enough song, yet powerful, and it got the message across. Louis wondered if Harry had written it while alone in his room.

Harry had looked over at Louis for a fraction of a second after the song ended. It had not escaped Louis how Harry had used the pronoun "him" several times. The audience had apparently accepted it, and no one looked shocked. There was plenty of applause at the conclusion of the song. He felt eyes on himself as well.

Louis felt something welling up in his chest, bigger and stronger as the seconds ticked by. Something had to give. Too late he realized it was tears that needed to spill over. He excused himself and went to the restroom in a hurry.

When he finally achieved a semblance of control—enough to return to the booth, Brooke was smiling, and her eyelashes were wet with tears.

"Oh Louis!" she exclaimed. "It was so sweet."

Louis' voice was gritty as he agreed. "I reckon so," he said.

"Oh Louis, do more than just sit here! Go over to the stage and acknowledge him!"

"I can't do that!" Louis rebelled because everyone in the place would see what was happening, and they would all know it was him Harry had been singing about. He was also, secretly, afraid Harry might not receive him well. But that fear was stupid. Harry _had _to be singing about him. Who else would it be? Still, dumb as his lack of action was, he feared being presumptuous.

As it happened, the band took an early break then. It was no doubt planned that way, and Harry made his way over to the booth. Louis felt emotional as hell, and at the same time, embarrassed as hell. The lump in his throat was enormous. It was as if all his inner feelings had been exposed to all the people in the room. He felt eyes following Harry's progress, and realized Harry must be having a very dificult time forcing himself to approach.

Harry had put himself out there for him, and now he was coming to him. He was probably as afriad as Louis was of rejection. So Louis stood up and patted Harry's arm—the most he felt comfortable doing, even though he really wanted to hug him. Harry smiled, and his dimples made their first appearance since they'd had the argument. And boy, were they ever welcome! Louis had nearly forgotten how adorable they were.

Harry patted Louis back, and Louis scooted further in so Harry could sit beside him, across from Brooke and Aaron. There was a buzz as people were talking about them, and a few people even said things like, "Aww..." which was making Louis blush practically purple. A few others clapped hesitantly, as if they weren't sure if they should or not.

Harry's faithful followers were all aware of the man in his life, as they'd seen Louis at all the shows. They hadn't been sure of the status—whether they were just friends or lovers, but now there was very little room left for doubt.

"That was beautiful, Harry," Brooke spoke up. Thank God for Brooke! She knew how to fill in uncomfortable silences like a pro. It didn't matter that her words were simple—she was being honest, soothing nerves along the way. Aaron, quite reserved about the whole thing, acted as if he was enchanted with his beer bottle, peeling off the label and studying it carefully. Most straight guys, Louis supposed, would have a problem with this whole deal, but Aaron was very gracious about it, never indicating any aversion.

Brooke gushed to Harry, "It's so unique. I've never heard a song quite like that before, and, of course, your voice is wonderful."

"That's what I've always said," it came out of Louis' mouth, and he couldn't take it back. But on second thought, he didn't _want_ to take it back. Even though he and Harry hadn't talked for a while, he wanted to remind Harry of how much he admired him, as well as his singing. This was the closest he could get.

Harry guzzled his iced tea when the waitress brought it. He'd been damn nervous about singing that song—Louis could see it plainly in his eyes. There was no need to be though. It had been completely unexpected for Louis, but also a joy. He'd never even considered Harry was really going to write a song about sitting on a rock at a mountain stream. He chuckled in spite of himself.

Everyone looked at him.

"What?" asked Brooke.

"Oh, I was just thinkin' about Harry writin' that song. He told me he might do it, but I never thought he would. It thought he was jokin.' It was a nice surprise."

Louis and Harry both looked down at the table, still not allowing their eyes to connect except for when Harry had first arrived at the booth, and even that hadn't lasted more than a few seconds.

Brooke fanned herself with her hand. "Aaron, it's a little stuffy in here. I'm gonna go outside for a breath of fresh air. Come with me."

Clever! Louis saw that she was grabbing an opportunity to leave him alone with Harry, so they'd have to talk to each other. Manipulative, she was! But in a subtle enough way. Being Brooke, it was about as subtle as it was going to get.

As soon as their friends went out the door, Louis knew he had to end their mutual suffering. And he might as well do it right the first time.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged into possible dismissal, let alone rejection. "I missed you, babe," he said quietly.

Harry turned on the dimples again, meeting his eyes fully, forgiveness evident without having to say a word.

"And I really appreciate the song. I listened to every word, and I thought it was clever," Louis added to be sure Harry knew the extent of his gratefulness.

"Thanks," Harry said simply, bowing his head to try to hide his pink-cheeked pleasure at Louis' praise.

"I'm sorry," they both uttered at exactly the same time. They needed the laugh that followed. It released a whole lot of pressure.

"I'm the one who fucked things up," Louis felt compelled to say.

"Hey man, I'm just as guilty, so let's just let it go. I don't think there's any doubt of the end result."

Louis hoped he knew what Harry was saying—that they both loved each other, would stay together, and there was no room for doubt.

Aaron and Brooke came back in when the second set was due to start, and one look at Louis told Brooke things were going to be fine.

Without Brooke's help, Louis wasn't at all sure he and Harry would talking to each other, even now.

"Thanks, Brooke. For everything," said Louis.

"Hey, I didn't do anything," she insisted. "When something is right, it's right."


	41. Chapter 41

Aaron was avidly grilling Harry about song writing, and listening to his replies with rapt attention. Harry was enjoying it, always happy to talk about music, and was trying to explain in a simplified way how it worked; that he'd put words together, bring the words to the other band members, and the bass player would give him the lines for the music. The other three would fill in the holes of the song with ingenious chords and runs of melodic notes.

"Usually one of us will start hummin,' and that seems to inspire the rest of us, and sooner or later someone will hit on sommat that fits the words. Might take hours to get a start on a song, or might take days or weeks. We kind just build it from the ground up." Aaron was looking as if he was enthralled, absorbing it all. "It just happens," Harry shrugged his shoulders, a little ill at ease with how intent Aaron was.

"You mean it just happens when someone has the talent to create it. Most people don't," Aaron said. "That's why it captivates me so much. You take words out of thin air and make a song out of them."

"No, not out of thin air," Harry was quick to say. "There must be an inspiration that comes from someone or sommat," he glanced at Louis. "That's the only time it works for me. Words are just words. A song's words have to mean sommat personal to me."

"Why are most songs about love?" Aaron asked next.

Harry had to contemplate this for a moment, and reach into his own head. Aaron's question was a tough one, a complex one.

"I think, um, possibly because love is the most important thing in a lot of people's lives. They can relate to it. Almost everyone's had their hearts broken, and that's the basis for the sad ballads. People can relate to the happy, up-beat songs about love too. We've all been there. And I think the notion of love gives people hope. Even if they _aren't_ in love, songs can motivate people to want to find it."

The break was ending, and Harry had to go back onstage. Aaron looked a little disappointed. Louis would bet he'd want to talk with Harry about music again sometime. Louis liked how inquisitive Aaron was, how he showed such a desire to learn more.

"He's intelligent and gifted," Aaron said after Harry had walked away. It said a whole lot that Aaron had complimented Harry in this way. Aaron didn't do an appreciable amount of talking, especially compared to Brooke. So when he did talk, it wasn't usually just idle chatter.

"He's a visionary. I think he's ingenious. He's going to become famous."

The way Aaron said this last part gave Louis chills. He'd said it with such quiet conviction. As if it was a given. Louis supposed Aaron was right. Harry was certainly creative and innovative. He had a beautiful, expressive voice, and stage presence that could rival Elvis. He could take Uneven Emotion to high places in the music world. Louis knew it clear down to his bones, and had for a while. He'd always known there was something special about Harry, from the very start. Some people seem to be born special, and Harry was no doubt one of them.

Apparently Brooke felt the same as Aaron. She had stars in her eyes as she watched Harry perform everything from rock to pop, and a few more ballads too. She had nothing but praise, and Louis had so much pride that it was virtually coming out of his ears. Brooke and Aaron danced a few times. The dance floor was crowded for most of the night. It was a small dance floor but still . . . people seemed to be motivated to dance when Harry sang.

When the night ended, Brooke looked teary eyed as she hugged Harry and Louis. Without mentioning that Louis and Harry were evidently on good terms again, she exclaimed, "This has been the best night! Thank you for inviting us!"

"We both had a fantastic time," Aaron agreed. Brooke was just a little tipsy, but Aaron had secured an Uber for them, and Harry and Louis waved them off.

Coming in the door to their apartment, Louis found himself actually nervous. It had been a while since they'd even touched each other; he knew they hadn't forgotten how, but making the move was difficult for the both of them. Kind of like starting all over.

They sat on the couch and talked for a while. Louis left the living room on the pretense of going to the restroom, and when he returned, Harry accused him playfully. "You pinched me teddy bear!"

Indeed he had. Louis had taken the bear from Harry's bedroom and put it into his own. It was his way of saying that he missed sleeping with Harry. Hell, he more than missed it! He'd felt dreadful all of this time. He nodded and smiled. "I nicked it, all right."

"Well, I'm all over that!" Harry said, and they were suddenly in each other's arms. Neither was sure which one had slithered over on the couch—or maybe they both had, but it didn't matter.

They snuggled on the couch and kissed for eons and eons. Lips against lips that had grieved and longed for that warm, sweet caress that was the precursor to passion. But for now, the kissing was enough. Drugged by desire, they let affection rule. Wrapped in a cocoon with time ebbing and flowing, they didn't want to separate for any reason. Finally, laughing, Louis announced it was two-thirty in the morning, and they needed to get some sleep.

As they undressed and lay down on the bed, Harry said, "You're me sweet creature."

Louis had an odd look on his face. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"The best," answered Harry.

"You mean, you think of me as a _creature?"_

"Yeah, but not a creepy one."

Louis shook his head. Harry came up with the weirdest things.

"Okay, then that's sick. I kinda like bein' a creature, I reckon. Big spoon or little spoon?"

"Little spoon."

"I thought so."

They simply went to sleep, Louis not wanting to make Harry think he only wanted sex, although, by now, Harry had to already know that.

They slept until ten, totally wrung out. Their separation had caused so much tension and angst that this reunion had them sleeping hard and sound. It felt so good to be right up against each other once again. It felt almost surreal as well. Both were afraid of it being a dream.

Louis awoke to the sun filtering into the room, and he welcomed the warmth. It shone softly on his face. He stretched gently. His mind was tranquil for the first time in nearly a week. The colors around him were brighter—outside the window the agapanthus, the salvia, the sea lavender were in bloom. Even the comforter he lay under was pleasingly alluring. There was a peace that had infiltrated him down into his bones. He was pondering why he felt this way, and why life suddenly felt easy. Then he realized why . . . Harry was clinging to him—both arms and legs wrapped around him from behind, and the teddy bear was somehow squished in between them. Harry . . . he and Harry were in bed together. If the teddy bear wasn't making his back itch, things would be flawless.

In a sleep-roughened voice, he asked Harry how it had possibly gotten between them when they were practically plastered together? Harry smiled to himself. "I guess he felt he wasn't gettin' enough attention. Do we really have to get up?" Harry was still pretty groggy, and not wanting to lose Louis' warmth. He pulled the teddy bear out from between them with a grunt and a lot of effort.

"It's Sunday, Haz. No dog walkin,' We can even stay in bed all day if you want to."

"I have to get up and fix me sweet creature some breakfast."

"That can wait. Right now I just want to savor the fact that we're a couple again. We are, aren't we?"

"We always were," Harry corrected him. "We were both just stubborn."

"Stupid is a better word. I don't want that to happen ever again."

"Neither do I! Communication—that's the key."

"I think I remember that bein' mentioned before—quite a while ago."

"And for good reason. But we didn't follow the rules."

Louis couldn't argue with that. If they'd communicated, they never would have been sleeping apart, not touching, not having stare-downs, not getting in each others' space (purposely) and wouldn't have been miserable all of that time.

"I've missed your touch. I would have given just about anythin' if you had just brushed up against me now and again," Louis confessed.

"You were so sulky. I wanted to touch you in the worst way, but as gruff as you were, I figured better to leave well enough alone."

"It _wasn't _well enough."

"I know, but I was afraid of wakin' the sleepin' lion. You can be ferocious, you know."

"I'm not the big bad wolf. And I don't mean to be like that, Hazza. Especially not to you. I was feelin' defeated, and couldn't find a way out of it."

"The gloom . . . the anguish of it all made me feel wretched," Harry shook his head as if to chase away the distressing thoughts.

They were both feeling bashful. It seemed that they had never learned to push through their uncertainty. When things got dicey or unstable, their first inclination was to clam up. They would have to apply themselves to transmit how they felt to each other. The first thought should have been to unite, not to back away. They were a couple now, and they needed to keep working at it.

"It won't ever be easy, Haz. But we have to stick to the communication and not draw away when we're baffled with each other."

"If we love each other enough, we can do it, yeah?" asked Harry. The words smoothed Louis' rough edges born of his own fitful thoughts.

Eventually, after some soul-searching talk, Louis got out of bed and got the coffee brewing while Harry made them stuffed french toast. Blueberries, one of Louis' favorites, along with confectioners sugar and syrup really did the belly good.

"Now, back to bed again," instructed Louis after they were done eating, drinking coffee and orange juice, and the dishes were done.

"Are we really gonna spend the whole day there?" asked Harry, as if in disbelief.

"Why not? Who's gonna stop us?" His question had been answered with another question. Harry saw no fault with that though, as he'd been guilty of it in the past, and it meant more skin touching skin, and he would never, for as long as he lived, be opposed to that. As long as it was Louis. No one would ever compare to him.

They brushed their teeth, and then both ran for the bed, acting like unruly youngsters.

"Bring it in," commanded Louis, and Harry was only too happy to oblige. Tender touches, gentle hands running up and down their each other's sides. Louis' hand lodged in the crook of Harry's neck, smoothing his hair, toying with his curls. Harry's eyes closed as he allowed himself the luxury of basking in Louis' attention.

Louis' fingers strayed to Harry's jaw, sliding over the slight stubble there. Harry didn't have much of a beard at all. Louis' marveled at his soft skin. His own jaw had a lot more stubble, and his chest more hair than Harry's, which was hairless for the most part.

They explored each other, appreciating the differences. Louis licked Harry's neck. Just short strokes of his tongue was all it took to convert Harry into a lion with a soft purr. A lion that was harmless and cuddly, with a roar that was rarely used. Harry was a gentle being.

Louis was much rougher around the edges. His words could cut like a knife. He was a double-edged sword, and he could be menacing. Not toward Harry, but with others, his temper could be triggered into violence in an instant. And he often hid his genuine feelings with bravado. He could be sarcastic too. Yes, very rough around the edges. But Harry was willing to help him to learn how to be serene and more accepting of the world around him.

Harry knew he needed to learn to apply himself to break through that false front Louis could erect in seconds in an attempt to protect himself. Saving face seemed to be paramount to Louis, and humbling himself was challenging. Harry made a note to himself to try to metaphorically back Louis into a corner when he became defensive. Only then did he stand a chance of shattering the barriers the Donny lad put up.

"We need to get our egos out of the way," Harry said from within Louis' embrace. He was talking about the both of them, but mainly Louis. And trying to be subtle about it.

"I know you're talkin' about me," Louis accused in a good-natured way, continuing to spread kisses on the side of Harry's neck. "I can try harder to govern me ego. But the idea that we could have gotten into it over what love is . . . well, that's obviously absurd. I mean, it could have at least been over sommat that made sense, like, for instance, how we spend money."

"Well, the worst was the most recent. When we got into it over . . . household maintenance," Harry said dubiously, not knowing what response might come from Louis.

"Me messiness is what you're referrin' to," said Louis. "And I've already decided to be more tidy. I've put that one out of me mind." And it was true. He had been picking his newspapers and books up off the floor, and Harry had noticed. No more clothes thrown here and there, draped over furniture or the odd kitchen chair. No more shoes to trip over. Well, _mostly._

"You've done more than decide," Harry reminded him. "I reckon you've redeemed yourself."

"I'm glad you noticed, but I wouldn't say redeemed quite yet. I have a lot more ground to cover."

"But you're really tryin.'"

Louis' breathing had deepened and become rough. This neck kissing was so sensual, and the feeling was mutual, because Harry began to squirm and wiggle against him, as if he was a kid that was overly excited to ride on the roller coaster. His enthusiasm had always been hard for Harry to contain. When he liked something, he didn't want to hide it.

Louis' hand drifted to the top of Harry's bum, and then down to cup it. Harry tensed, but only for a second. He'd done the same to Louis, so Louis had every right. It was just that it reminded him of . . . unpleasant things. The way his past boyfriend had tried to pull down his pants and . . . Oh God. He had to banish all thoughts of that.

"I know . . . I know," crooned Louis. "I understand what you're thinkin.' And you don't have a thing to worry about with me."

Louis removed his hand. He planned on desensitization. He'd touch Harry's bum only now and then, and never be threatening in any way about it. Slowly, he'd win Harry's trust in that area just as he had in other areas.

They held hands in bed, talked, slept for a while, woke up, and talked some more. They did this for the entire day without getting bored or restless even once. All they needed was each other's company.

"Did you notice Brooke didn't mention her Uncle Phil when we went to dinner?"

Louis laid on his back, his hands resting behind his head. "Yeah. I wonder if they talked to him, and what he said. He probably denied it."

"Yeah, but I don't think she'd believe him, do you?" asked Harry.

"Hell, no. Even though he's her uncle, she knows he's been dodgy before. She's not a dumb girl."

"No, not at all. And first impressions can be wrong."

"No shit! I thought Brooke was a slut when I first met her. I thought she was easy."

"Well, she did ask us both out for coffee," Harry said teasingly.

"She's just forward with guys, I think. But now I don't think she slept around as much as I thought back then," acknowledged Louis. "Like you said, first impressions and all that, and don't judge a book by its cover."

Harry nodded. "I think she just needed a nice guy like Aaron to domesticate her."

Louis laughed. "You got that right!"

"Now that things are ironed out between us, we should do sommat soon. Any movies you want to see?" suggested Louis.

"Well yeah . . . there's one."

"A love story I'm bettin.'

Um, yeah, in fact, it is."

"If it's playin' 'round here, let's go tonight. Unless you want to stay at home." Louis almost hoped Harry would go for the latter.

"We can catch an early showin,' and then come home and spend all evenin' together."

"You've got me sold. I'm chuffed. We can pick up some takeaway on the way home."

So they dressed casually and saw a love story. Harry, of course, was quietly crying by the end of the movie. Louis didn't even know it until he looked over at him, and saw tears streaming down his face. He wanted to kiss them all away, but, once again, they were in public, and he couldn't. Some day he'd get over these stupid inhibitions.

"Don't cry, Haz," he said quietly after the movie was over and they lingered for a few minutes to let the worst of the crowd exit the theatre.

"Can't help it. Really can't. I cried when I saw Charlotte's Web too," confessed Harry.

"Well, that really was quite a sad movie. I mean, when the spider died and all . . ."

"Don't remind me!"

"Okay babe, let's go get dinner and go home." Louis put his arm around Harry's shoulder as they walked out of the place. Strangely, it was getting easier and easier to be demonstrative with Harry. He just had to do it in small increments.

Dinner in hand, which happened to be Jack in the Box, because they hadn't had any junk food in a while, and Louis felt they deserved it every now and then, they entered the apartment and proceeded to eat together, stuffing fries into their mouths, sipping on milkshakes.

"You know, when you haven't had this crap in a while, it tastes fantastic. Better than I remembered," said Louis.

"Yeah, sinful," agreed Harry, licking ketchup from his fingers.

Louis' blue eyes tracked every move. "You make it look so . . . _sexual_ when you do that."

"I'm just enjoyin' it," protested Harry, and Louis wasn't sure if he meant it, or if he'd been baiting him. If so, it was working.

"But you don't have to_ moan_ when you eat it!" Louis teased.

"It's moans of appreciation."

"Yeah, right."

"I show you moans of appreciation too, yeah?"

"Yeah, you do. But doing it while eatin' or anything other than bein' in bed together should be against the law."


	42. Chapter 42

Harry suddenly and abruptly seemed to collapse, like someone had kicked him behind the knees, and Louis watched on in astonishment as he crumpled onto the floor, laughing his head off. Had he taken leave of his senses? Louis eyed him surreptitiously. But he soon discovered it was just relief. Harry had been so tense all week, and now, knowing that things would be alright again caused him to finally relax, and thus laugh hysterically. It was his way of letting the tension go.

So without hesitating, Louis dropped to the floor as well, and they rolled around, wrestling and laughing—just celebrating the fact that they had argued and pouted for no good reason, and yet they were just as drawn to each other as ever. It was suddenly clear that there was nothing wrong with their relationship. They were still in love, and planned to stay together. They had all but pledged it to each other earlier.

The horse play continued for a few minutes, and at some point, Louis found himself on top of Harry. Louis wondered if time had stopped when they both became motionless in unison. Things got silent as they once again engaged in gazing into each other's eyes. It was almost too intense. Harry could see right into Louis' clear-as-the-sky blue eyes, and gazed in wonder at their beauty. Most importantly, he saw sincerity there, along with undisguised affection.

He loved the fact that they'd created a slow burn. The build-up was extra strong because they'd hardly communicated, much less touched for a week, and then last night they'd held each other with no sex involved. He knew it would make things even more incredible when they finally made love again. Louis was all about the build-up, and had had no trouble coaxing Harry into loving it too. But he also hoped he'd proved to Harry that he loved just being with him, whether or not sex was involved.

When they kissed, Harry was so hungry that he let himself slip into a trance where only himself and Louis resided. Feeling Louis' lips on his again, a thousand fantasies that Harry had harbored night after night were becoming reality. He hadn't for a minute forgotten the taste, the cushioned, moist feeling of Louis' lips as they brushed against his, then massaged; kept working at them until he opened up. He progressed extra slowly, almost enveloped Harry as the kiss deepened. He felt as if Louis would surely devour him. The longer they kissed, the harder Harry got until it felt as if he would climax if they continued. Just from a kiss. It blew his mind, how Louis affected him. It just kept building and building until he felt he couldn't take anymore without combusting.

"Lou, I'm . . . " he didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"I know Haz. Same here. I'm about to lose me fuckin' shit too."

So Louis knew, and felt it too. Was his urgency as great as Harry's" At least Harry knew he wasn't alone. Louis hugged him hard and made sure Harry felt the affection. Genuine affection, with no agendas involved. No attempts at anything sexual.

It occurred to Louis that it didn't matter if they didn't make love tonight. It was Harry's presence that he wanted more than anything. Just to be near him. He needed him with a passion that wouldn't be silenced. His closeness, his warmth. Passion could be so much more than sex. It could expand into all areas of a relationship. He'd read that somewhere before, but he fully understood it now that Harry had come into his life. Always before, it had just been sex—satisfying a physical need. Nothing that was anything like this longing, this sweet ache.

Louis couldn't remember a time he'd sat next to a guy with no sex involved, and been at ease. But it came so naturally with Harry.

Harry soaked up the hug and gave every bit as much as he received. He thought of all the things about Louis that held him captive.

He could keep writing rock ballads for Louis. The audience loved his ballads, and most of them, through word of mouth, knew he was gay. It pleased him to no end to know that the audience last night had to know the ballad had been for Louis. Louis had been present at the shows for the last several weeks, and Harry sat with him on his break, so the fans had to have put two and two together.

Louis, meanwhile, was thinking of unwrapping Harry like a gift and worshipping every inch of him. But he also wanted to cuddle. Either one would make him beyond delirious.

By the time Harry's lips were once again on his, Louis was close to passing out. That, or coming. Or maybe both.

They kissed endlessly, and Louis didn't want to stop kissing him until he'd had his fill. He'd relived every kiss they'd had before they'd argued and then stopped sleeping together or even touching.

Louis had fallen so fucking hard for him.

The kiss deepened, their tongues stroked, Harry sucked at Louis' tongue, a sound very much like a whimper escaping him. It brought out the protectiveness in Louis. The connection was like none Louis had ever had before with anyone.

Louis'seduction skills had no rival. One moment they'd been affectionate and loving, and now it had so naturally evolved into something more—just flowed like a river straight into intimacy. No rough spots, and they let the current carry them where it would.

Harry's hand was under his shirt, his fingers caressing Louis' belly like the strings of a guitar. Louis' muscles contracted with the pleasure, and Harry enjoyed the ripple.

"I don't want anyone else," Louis crooned between frantic little kisses. "The revolving door of men walkin' in and out of me life, and not one of them bein' a repeat. Then you come along, Haz, and I can't even look at other men anymore."

Harry sighed his contentment, relishing the compliment. He was leaking. The love combined with the sexy part of all this was turning him inside out.

Louis led Harry into his bedroom, grinning at the teddy bear sitting on the nightstand. That's where it would stay.

It was still early—they had the whole evening before them. Yet they both undressed as if they were going to bed for the night.

Holding each other once under the sheets was the kind of feeling that one rarely feels in a lifetime. It was like coming home.

"I want you straddlin' me face," Louis said on a whim. He was letting his train of thoughts loose. It was a gamble, but he was betting Harry would love the sound of it—and the _feel_ of it.

Harry jumped as if he'd been poked with a cattle prod.

"What?" he asked, confounded.

"You heard me."

Louis knew Harry was totally turned on. He knew by the expression on his face. Harry tried to purport an offhand attitude, but the blush spreading over his neck and cheeks told Louis how much the words had affected him.

"Um . . . " And the was all that found passage out of Harry's mouth. His cock seeped some more.

"Come on, babe," Louis slipped Harry's underwear off, which Harry had discreetly kept in place, feeling rather shy after their abstinence. Louis had slipped his own off under the sheets, and now he semi-lifted Harry up so that he sat on his chest.

Harry was at a loss. He didn't know what to say, what to do, or even how to arrange his facial features. He was so self-conscious that he could barely look Louis in the eye. Louis reached over and turned the lamp down to dim, not being able to miss Harry's _huge_ dick right in front of his face, and with drops forming on the head, the same way his own was.

He encouraged Harry forward so he could taste that beautiful cock he'd missed so much. He grabbed it and sucked greedily at the head, his tongue entering the slit. Harry's head fell backward, his groan loud and forceful.

Louis started working Harry's cock into his mouth. His whiskers brushed against Harry's sensitive shaft. It's length and girth were formidable, but that just made it all the more of an erotic challenge for Louis. His tongue worked busily as Harry's cock got nearer to the back of his throat.

"Oh God!" Harry cried out. Pumping his hips wasn't even an option. He couldn't help it. The sweet, wet warmth of Louis' suctioning mouth beckoned him, and he knew how Louis' throat felt, tight around his cock, urging him on, daring him to release his load.

Louis gagged a bit, but then got into a rhythm, and soon swallowed Harry whole. By instinct, Harry's hands closed around Louis' hair as he rocked into his lover's mouth, over and over.

Louis pulled off for a moment. "Fuck me face," he said in a smokey, raw voice. With your hands in me hair, just like that."

Harry was shocked, but didn't question or hesitate, doing as he was told. He couldn't resist anyway. He couldn't say no to such a salacious request. He buried his hands in Louis' hair, gripping firmly, but not hurtfully. This had to be a dream. Here he was in bed with Louis, the most handsome, desirable guy he'd ever known, and he was fucking his face. Unbelievable.

Louis had his cock head swallowed again, his throat massaging and teasing as Harry pumped eagerly. Suddenly, the fire started in the base of Harry's spine, shooting up to engulf his whole lower pelvis until he felt the warm, copious jets coming from the head of his cock and directly into Louis' throat.

"Ah . . . ah . . . ahhhhh," he was on the edge of shouting as he came violently, losing the rhythm completely, intent only on the idea that his come was going down Louis' throat, actually feeling Louis swallowing around him. Spurt after spurt after spurt, and he knew he'd fall onto the bed beside Louis at any second. He was completely wrung out, completely fulfilled.

Still, Louis kept at him, using his hand to squeeze the last of his come onto his tongue, milking him dry, lapping and swirling until Harry flopped over beside him, not able to stay on his knees any longer.

Silence reigned again as Harry gasped for air, never having felt so satisfied in his life.

"How soon will it take you to reload?" asked Louis with an impish look on his face. "Because I wanna do that again."

Harry found the energy—just barely, to look over at him and marvel at how much Louis loved sex—sex with him, Harry Styles.

"Not long," was all he managed to say. Louis knew it was the truth too. Harry was capable of multiple orgasms. They both were. Just put them together in a room, and the magic happened. Their sex drives were perfectly matched. They could drive each other wild, rest for a short time and then do it all over again . . . and again . . . and again.

As Harry recovered, Louis kissed his lips sweetly and lingeringly, the palm of his hand smoothing across Harry's chest and belly.

"I could spend a few forevers doin' this," he admitted. "I love you, Harry Styles."

Harry perked up. "You're makin' it easy for me to say I love you too, Tommo."

And indeed, Louis had broken through their weak line of defenses and now the words could be articulated with a lot less fear and uncertainty. It would get easier from now on.

A little later, Harry had renewed his energy and also his desire. He slid down on the bed and captured Louis' ever-hard cock in his mouth. More like, gulped it down. Louis rolled onto his back, watching Harry's every move. Men were visual, and Louis loved seeing his cock disappearing completely into Harry's mouth, loved seeing Harry lick the tip, sip at the pre-come, and suck earnestly, causing his cheeks to hollow.

He rolled his hips in time to Harry's steady sucking. The bed creaking slightly, their hard breathing, the muffled moans . . . they all added to the experience. Louis made a monumental effort to let Harry take over. And it felt so novel, so intimate. Louis had always been the dominant one, the top, and this was a lovely foreign sensation to give himself completely over to someone.

Harry's deep, soulful voice hummed in such an impassioned way as he took Louis' cock into his throat. The vibration made Louis' toes curl. Haz was getting the hang of it, and was now almost as skilled at it as Louis was.

Louis could scarcely believe that every time they made love, it was more intense. He hadn't thought it possible. He fed Harry his cock, his hand on the back of Harry's head when Harry stopped to make a remark about this or that. Harry loved it; his lover wasn't shy.

"Keep suckin' babe. Take me deep."

His words fueled Harry's already off-the-charts arousal. Louis came almost without any warning. And he came and came and came. His grunts filled the room. He didn't think he'd ever stop. Harry moaned his pleasure as he swallowed.

Of course, by now, Harry was fully hard again, and had been since he'd decided to scoot lower on the bed to give Louis head. Just the thought had made him leak.

Louis hoisted himself on top of Harry now, kissing him senseless. He was going to prove to Harry that he was the only one he needed. He didn't have to though—because Harry already knew it. Harry was past ever thinking about anyone else.

Louis' hand trailed down Harry's back, making Harry shiver. God, he was actually trembling! Louis found that so exciting-that he could do that to Harry with only the slide of his hand. Slowly, he dipped his hand further down, to the base of Harry's spine, pressing that area. He knew all Harry's hot spots. Touch him lightly like this in certain spots, and Harry went limp on him. Limp and helpless. His cock though, _wasn't_ limp. It was throbbing, right against Louis' own cock.

Louis experimented very carefully as he cupped Harry's ass in his hand. This was only the second time he'd done it when they were naked. Harry's breathing became more shallow as all his senses centered on Louis' hand. But he didn't withdraw.

Louis gently dipped into the crease between Harry's cheeks. Slowly, so very slowly, he delved deeper until he found Harry's hole. He caressed it with a finger. Harry stiffened up and gasped.

Louis stopped. "You okay Haz?" he asked in a voice that was barely over a whisper.

"Um, I . . . I don't know," was Harry's ambivalent answer.

Louis understood that Harry had lingering misgivings about anything touching that area. So it occurred to him that Harry needed another kind of introduction. One that Harry was not as likely to refuse. And Louis was dying to give it to him as well.

"Get on your back, love," he said.

Harry did as he was told, trust shining in his eyes when he met Louis' own eyes. Louis smiled lazily, attempting to ease his lover's fears. Louis raised Harry's legs quickly, up to his shoulders and then spread them.

Harry's eyes got very large, but he didn't try to get away or voice his uncertainties. Louis' face was down, below Harry's balls before Harry could protest or ask what he was doing. Louis used both hands to spread him open, and his mouth landed right there where it was so sensitive that he doubted Harry would object. Harry's hole was tight, a reflection of how nervous he was.

Louis, however, was patient. He licked and used his lips in a way that he knew would feel fantastic to Harry.

Harry was doing nothing but gasping now.

"Oh! Oh!" he exclaimed.

But slowly, very gradually, Louis' probing tongue made progress. Harry felt himself start to relax, opening a little, then opening wider, accepting him. This was, by far, the most intimate thing anyone had done to him. He had been frankly shocked, but now he was starting to lose himself in the feeling. It was so intimate, so _personal,_ and he couldn't imagine anyone else doing this to him but Louis.

With each probe of Louis' tongue. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The act was deliciously dirty, and exciting beyond measure.

Although Louis had just spent himself, desire rippled through him anew. Harry was trusting him enough to allow this. It filled Louis with happiness.

Harry was now on the verge of sobbing as Louis very gently inserted a single finger. There hadn't been anything in there for a long time, so it took Harry aback for a moment—but only a moment.

Soon he was moaning and pushing back against Louis' tongue and finger. Louis' errant finger pegged Harry's prostate, and he thought Harry was going to come undone. He was making whimpering, begging sounds, and his cock was jumping in time to the stroke of Louis' finger.

Louis kept it up until Harry came, which wasn't long at all. Harry was very vocal throughout his orgasm, shooting come all over his own neck and belly, as well as the sheets, all without Louis or Harry even touching his cock. His climax went on for longer than Harry thought was possible, and all the time he continued to groan and writhe under Louis' tongue and finger. Louis loved how Harry throbbed around his tongue.

When at last he rolled to the side, and Louis mopped up the mess on the sheet with tissues, Harry could hardly move.

Louis lay in the still-damp spot, allowing Harry to recover before he suggested they change the bottom sheet on the bed.

Louis let Harry rest a moment, and then helped him off the bed, extending his hand, then stripping the bottom sheet off. He threw on his discarded jeans and walked to the cabinet in the hallway to get another sheet.

"Why are you puttin' pants on?" asked Harry.

"The curtains in the livin' room are open," Louis answered.

Harry laid back and watched Louis walk out of the room with his bouncy, jaunty, relaxed swagger. It screamed bad ass, and if Harry hadn't seen him do it plenty of other times, he would have sworn Louis was putting on a show for him.

"This one, yeah?" asked Louis as he came back with a sheet with race cars on it. Harry laughed.

"It was mine when I was a youngster," explained Louis. "Back in Doncaster. I kept it because it makes me feel safe, like a little kid again."

Harry warmed to this, because that was how his teddy bear made him feel. The teddy bear that Louis had given to him. Most of all, it was each other that made them feel safe.

"We oughta go buy two blankets," said Harry said. "One blue and one pink, to carry around with us."

Louis had _thought_ he was joking, but now it dawned on him that he wasn't.

"Harry, love. You say the damndest things!"


	43. Chapter 43

"You said the curtains in the livin' room are open?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," Louis answered. "What about it?"

Harry looked down at his hands, terribly bashful for a moment, and then he blurted the words out.

"That's kinda excitin.'"

At first, Louis wasn't sure what he meant, but the realization hit him a moment later. Louis was well versed in sex, and there weren't many things he hadn't at least heard about.

"Why? You wanna walk out there naked? Into the livin' room?" he asked.

"Does it turn you on?" Harry returned.

"Well, now that I think about it, yeah, a little." Louis was fibbing just a little bit. It _did _turn him on, and not a little, but a _lot_. So Harry got off on showing his body? That was seriously hot. The only problem he could see with it, unfortunately, was a big one.  
Someone reporting it, or the land lord seeing it. Either way, Harry could end up in jail.

Louis struggled with how to inform Harry of the possible consequences. He was pretty sure Harry had to be aware of the danger, but he didn't want to make him feel foolish by being overly blunt.

"You know, Hazza, you gotta be careful with that kind of thing," he hazarded to say.

"Yeah," Harry looked thoughtful, and also a tad disappointed. "If a girl did that, nobody would say anythin.' But with a guy, it's a whole different ball game, yeah?"

"Yeah, I get what you're sayin.' But . . . maybe sometime . . . somewhere, we could arrange sommat. Know what I mean?"

Harry's face lit up like a light bulb.

"But how would we keep from gettin' caught . . . by the wrong person?"

"Oh, there's ways of makin' sure the party watchin' is _wantin'_ to watch, and that there's no one else around that might blow the whistle on us."

Harry's eyes flicked away from Louis' out of pure embarrassment.

"Don't think there aren't plenty of other people who have had fantasies like that," Louis reassured him. "They just don't talk about it. Frankly, I'm massively thrilled you're a lot less inhibited than I thought you were when I met you. Even now, you just keep surprisin' me. Any other preferences, or . . . fetishes?" All Louis' attention was on Harry, curious of what Harry might say.

"Nothin' that stands out at the moment except for . . . what you just mentioned, but I bet there are others . . . "

"That we can discover?" Louis asked, finishing Harry's thoughts. "That's arousin' all by itself."

"Yeah, and maybe someday I can stop gettin' embarrassed."

"Sex drive is natural. You know that. I wouldn't mind at all, makin' some of your fantasies come true."

"Do you have any?" Harry asked.

"Well, I wasn't quite honest with you a minute ago. And we promised we would be. So I'll tell you that what you said about walkin' into the livin' room naked _really _got me fired up."

"And does it turn you on, if . . . you were to do it yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah it does."

Harry looked gratified, and just a little proud of himself.

"So," he said. "You weren't completely honest. Why didn't you admit it straight away? That it turned you on?"

"Maybe I was just a touch embarrassed meself."

"So let's promise again," Harry said, bound and determined to keep their lines of communication completely open. "Never to keep anythin' back. Not even little things."

"Okay, you've got me promise. And this time I intend to follow it to the letter. I don't want any more arguments or hurt feelins.'"

"Nor do I. I promise to tell you about anythin' that bothers me, no matter how small."

"Okay, then. Let's hug on that."

And they did. Another warm, sweet, enveloping hug. The kind of hug you never want to end.

"Ever heard of Black's Beach?" Louis asked Harry the next morning.

"No, what is it?"

"A nude beach. That might be a good beginnin.'"

Harry caught on, remembering their conversation the night before.

"That sounds sick! Only problem is, I don't trust meself not to get a boner."

Louis laughed. "Oh Harry! As long as we don't get too close, I think we'd be okay."

"I don't know about that," Harry sounded unconvinced.

"I guess we can discuss that later. But would you be interested?"

"Um, I think so," a bashful Harry allowed.

"We'd have to stay at least overnight. It's a three, close to four hour drive from here."

"Where is it?"

"San Diego. It's the only official designated clothing optional beach in California."

"Have you been there?"

Louis shook his head. "No. Just heard about it. Never had a reason to go. But I do now."

"Let's do it then!" In typical Harry fashion, he wanted to do it as soon as possible. Harry grabbed opportunities like they might dissolve before he could take advantage.

"Just don't have any sexy thoughts while we're there."

"How can I avoid it?"

"Willpower," said Louis with a grin. "I've talked to people who have gone to nude beaches, and they say there's nothin' to worry about. You're busy with swimmin,' talkin,' and the like, and it's unlikely you'll get a boner."

"Can we go this weekend?" asked Harry. "I have a gig on Friday night, but Nathan has a weddin' he has to go to on Saturday, so maybe we could go Saturday and come back Sunday, late afternoon?"

Wow, once Harry got an idea in his head, he was single-minded and full-steam ahead.

"I reckon so. It'll be nice to go somewhere. Are Brooke and Aaron goin' to the gig?" asked Louis.

"Oh, I'm sure they will. Brooke asked me to call her every time we're performing; that they'd come as often as they could."

"Oh, um, Haz? Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Don't mention to them that we're goin' to Black's Beach. For one thing, it would be awkward to see them naked, and for another, I wanna be alone with you."

This warmed Harry's heart. He wouldn't have wanted them to go anyway. This was an experience that he and Louis were meant to share alone. And he had no desire to see Brooke and Aaron naked.

"Of course I won't," he smiled, his dimples came into play, and Louis melted like chocolate on a hot day.

By now Harry was an expert at walking Higgins, the huge Great Dane. He insisted on always walking him. He loved the big brute, and Higgins seemed to feel the same about Harry. When the dog stood on his hind legs, his front legs almost went over Harry's shoulders. He was that enormous. You had to be careful though, because he could bowl you over in a second if you weren't paying attention.

Duke, the German Shepherd, remained dignified and didn't really care about interacting with other dogs. He was all business. If he were human, he'd be a professional, complete with suit and tie. Tiffany, the Sheltie was always the lady, as she always had been. And Trinket, the Shih-Tzu would probably always be their favorite. They had taken on a Chihuahua and a Boxer lately. They agreed that they absolutely could not take on any more for the time being, unless a dog dropped out for some reason.

They also kept all their weekend days open so they could be together. They had made that mandatory. Some of the owners weren't happy about that, but Louis suggested they play ball with their dog in the backyard to take the place of a Saturday walk, because a lot of their clients were not able to walk their own dogs because of health issues or age. Some were simply afraid their dogs would get away from them.

Their relationship had to come first, and Louis and Harry fiercely protected that.

The gig on Friday night was a lot of fun, with Brooke getting tipsy again, and Aaron staying sober and stoic, yet a little more of his personality leaked out every time they saw him. He was just on the reserved side with people he didn't know well.

The band came over to Louis and Harry's apartment, along with Brooke and Aaron after the gig, and they stayed up until 3am, drinking beer and listening to music, and talking about a whole gamut of subjects. Everyone shared childhood stories, and they were particularly interested in Louis' wild escapades in Doncaster, and how he'd learned to defend himself the hard way.

Harry was snuggly with Louis, and Louis mostly allowed it, still trying to overcome his inhibitions about touching Harry in front of others. He couldn't bring himself to kiss Harry in front of them, although it would have been nice, since Aaron and Brooke kissed playfully several times, and Brooke sat in Aaron's lap too. The price for being gay was high.

Harry was worried about staying up so late, and having to leave for Black's Beach in the morning, but Louis assured him they could sleep on the beach once they got there.

Brooke made a joke about Louis and Harry looking sleepy, and then she giggled. Louis knew she was making an innuendo about the couple wanting to be alone. So they just played along, nodding their agreement, and soon everyone got the message and left. Thank God for Brooke! She was becoming indispensable in sensitive situations.

Eight o'clock was going to come early, as that was the time they wanted to get up in order to hit the road by nine. They'd still have the afternoon at the beach, and all day Sunday. Louis found himself actually anticipating it, and happy Harry had suggested it.

Harry, however, was still harboring doubts about his ability to stay decent while naked.

"Harry, if you think that might happen, we can just wear our swim trunks. Some people don't get naked there. It's not a requirement, you know."

"I know, but the freedom . . . that's all part of it for me. I like the idea of it."

"Well, if sommat starts to happen down south, just put your trunks on then," suggested Louis. "And I will too. If we both do, no one will suspect anythin.'"

"You're so thoughtful, Lou. Thank you." Harry hugged him, and they went to bed, looking forward to a relaxing Saturday afternoon and Sunday on the beach. The weather was hot—it was June after all, but the beach would be considerably cooler, and with the usually cloud-free blue skies of California, they knew conditions would be ideal for their outing.

Louis had to smile to himself before they drifted off into dream land. Harry was so big down there that he was impressive when soft, but if he happened to get hard, people would probably not be able to help staring openly. He just hoped Harry was spared that.

The drive went much faster than Harry had thought it would; listening to music on the Rover's stereo and talking made the miles fly.

San Diego was a pretty town, with milder weather than further inland. The marine climate is influenced by the cool Pacific ocean temperatures. Harry liked the town immediately.

Black's Beach was a secluded area nestled beneath the bluffs of Torrey Pines. Reading a brochure Harry had obtained at a store where they stopped for snacks, he told Louis about a hike you had to take to get down to the beach. Down was a lot easier than getting back up, claimed the brochure, as the steps going back up were not the easiest to negotiate; the steps being uneven and one needed to be very diligent.

Louis was concerned. Considering how clumsy Harry was, he didn't want to encourage him to take the hike. He didn't need Harry falling and hurting himself. He'd seen Harry save himself a few times onstage. Once he'd almost fallen _off _the stage, and he'd nearly tripped a number of times. The fans were aware of this shortcoming of Harry's, and they seemed to be entertained by it. Apparently, it only added to his charm. Louis doubted anything Harry did would make any difference to his fans. But a stage, and steep cliffs on a trail were two different things. Louis didn't want to hurt his feelings, however, by suggesting they not take the hike back up, but another route the brochure also made mention of that was much easier. How could he put it gently that Harry just wasn't cut out for it? He could just see Harry falling, and pulling him down with him. But Harry resolved that problem by saying he was too afraid to go up, and Louis breathed a sigh of relief.

The brochure advised that nude bathers stay on the north side, as families were on the south side. They were glad to know there weren't going to be kids where they would be.

Hiking down the three hundred foot cliff was challenging. Not for Louis, who took it in stride, but Harry was tentative and hung onto Louis most of the way. There were other people there, but not as many as Louis had feared. Once you got to the bottom of the steps, you were free to disrobe, and a lot of people did, although Louis and Harry didn't immediately. They wanted to take some time to feel halfway comfortable before taking off all their clothes.

They spread out a beach towel and laid on their bellies, watching people and talking. These people were all so casual about being naked. It amazed Louis that they didn't seem at all self-conscious. But then, these people probably did this on a regular basis.

"I don't know if I want people lookin' at me junk," remarked Harry.

"Well, granted you have a _lot_ to look at," joked Louis. "But isn't it far better to have an impressive penis than a tiny thumb-like one? Like that guy over there." He didn't point, but Harry followed his path of vision, and he couldn't help but wonder if the guy wasn't ill at ease. Harry gave Louis a disapproving look for even mentioning the poor guy, and Louis apologized.

Harry, in the end, proved to be not at all modest once he got into the vibe. Sliding out of his clothes about an hour later, as Louis watched on, fascinated, he announced he was going down to the water.

"Come on, Lou Boo. You got this!" he urged, and Louis disrobed and followed him, also buck naked, and sure he was blushing, even though he had nothing to be ashamed of. Harry walked confidently to the water, which was quite cold for California. Only about sixty or sixty-five degrees.

They didn't stay in long, as they got chilled quickly. Getting back onto the beach, they dried off and soaked up the sun.

"Be careful, the areas that are normally covered up will sunburn real quick," advised Louis as he spread sunscreen on his crotch and ass. Other people were also doing it, so having to perform the deed didn't faze him much. Harry accepted the bottle and spread it on himself as well. The idea of a sunburned crotch didn't appeal to either of them, and it would put a serious damper on sex. They laughed about it.

"We'd have to put ice cubes in our mouths to be able to tolerate it," said Louis, stifling a giggle.

"Kissy?" asked Harry in a hushed voice, a look of expectancy on his face.

"Here? I don't know . . . I don't see any other gays kissin.'"

"Okay, but since everyone's naked, I reckoned a kiss wouldn't matter," teased Harry. It was perfectly sensible, when you looked at it through Harry's eyes.

"Well, look at it this way. If we kiss, sommat might happen that you specifically didn't _want_ to happen," reasoned Louis.

"Oh yeah," Harry looked relieved that Louis had reminded him. "I wonder where these people keep their wallets, their keys? And where do the women keep their lipsticks?"

He had Louis laughing again.

Harry remarked, "I see everyone has bags to carry their clothes in. I wish we'd thought of that."

"We'll have our clothes on when we leave, so no worries," Louis reminded him. Harry acted as if they'd be naked for their entire stay. He found that amusing.

"We won't be walkin' to the motel naked," he razzed Harry again. The motel was right across the street from the beach, and Louis had already reserved their room.

By mid-afternoon they were both starving, so they dressed and walked across the street, using the bridge the beach had installed instead of the steps, to a café and had a late lunch. Veggie burgers were on the menu, and since Louis was developing a taste (really out of necessity) for health food, he ordered one along with Harry, and baked sweet potato fries.

They were tired from the long drive and the day on the beach, so after lunch they retired to their motel room.

"What's to see in San Diego?" asked Harry.

"Well, there's the zoo, Sea World, art galleries, museums," Louis mentioned things he thought Harry might be interested in.

"Can we go to the zoo tomorrow mornin' and then the beach afterward?"

"Whatever you want, Harry. I'm happy goin' wherever you wanna go."

As it turned out, Harry had an affinity for reptiles. Snakes and tortoises in particular. He spent a least three quarters of an hour looking at them and pointing things out to Louis. Louis wasn't crazy about snakes, but the tortoises were really quite humorous. Everything from small tortoises to the giant Galapagos tortoises, some of which weighed more than five hundred pounds. They watched them eating cantaloupe, lettuce, broccoli and pumpkins.

The monkeys also held a special appeal for Harry. He studied all their mannerisms, and swore he could read their body language. But when one defecated and decided to throw it around, with Louis ducking just in time, they hurried off to another exhibit. They watched the huge hyacinth macaws, which were a striking blue, and the gentlest of parrots. They went into the expansive aviaries, and Harry soon had a whole flock of almost gaudily colored lorikeets on his shoulders and head. Animals seemed drawn to him.

Louis had more fun observing Harry than the animals themselves. Watching him interact with them, talk to them, and see how they responded to him made Louis realize Harry had something special that not only humans were attracted to, but also animals.

They had a laugh at the tiger enclosure, because it was evident two of the tigers were breeding. A few people watched, but most moved on, uncomfortable. When Louis and Harry saw what was transpiring, they chuckled, not unsettled at all.

By lunch time, they ate at Subway, then went back to the beach. A few of the beach goers remembered them from yesterday, and waved at them. They waved back, already starting to warm up to the freedom of a lack of clothes, and their embarrassment was all but gone.

That night, in bed naked, they kissed and hugged zealously. After being on the beach all day and hardly touching, they were eager. It felt all the sweeter to be alone again. Louis was glad they had decided to come here. While he loved his job, they'd needed a vacation from dog-walking, even if it was only for a weekend.

Louis lured Harry onto the beach that night; they walked a bit away from where people might venture, and they lay in the sand, kissing. Louis thought Harry would enjoy the thrill, and the chance, although low, of someone walking by and seeing them. It was quite dark, but the slight illumination from the waves made them visible if someone walked close enough by them. They were both enormously turned on. They had a big beach towel with them, and exchanged blow jobs underneath it.

With the sound of the waves crashing only feet away from them, it was romantic as hell, and Louis made a mental note to think of more semi-public activities that would arouse Harry in the future.


	44. Chapter 44

Louis was hoping that in this romantic setting at Black's Beach, Harry might become even more receptive to him. So he was going to try to get him to open up a little more tonight.

Their room was quaint, as was the motel. It wasn't your usual run-of-the-mill motel. It was special-family owned, and offered more than most chain motels. It was light and airy, quite large yet homey, the bedspread milky white with tassels in an almost-bohemian style. A wrought iron light fixture that was multi-colored hung above the bed. There was even a boho rainbow rug on the hardwood floor at the foot of the bed that they both got a kick out of. The wooden floor itself smacked of the hippie era, purposely made to look weathered. It had everything from tan right down to very dark brown accents. It really was charming, and conducive to romance for sure.

The large bathroom almost took their breath away the first time they saw it. It featured an old-fashioned claw foot tub, but all the windows and plants were what caught the eye immediately, and gave it a sultry jungle look. All the greenery . . .The trailing vines hanging from pots affixed to the walls, along with a huge colorful croton plant and succulents on the counter tops. The sunlight shone through gently, making the room bright and cheery. Louis didn't mind at all that there wasn't a shower. He could see the two of them sharing the tub quite happily, and having some sensual times in it. Bathrobes and slippers were provided. There was a coffee pot, microwave and small refrigerator. It might not be a hotel, but the little extras it offered were quite charming and unique. The hominess was the most pleasing feature.

"Atmosphere," said Harry, summing it up in one word. "That bathroom has a romantic atmosphere. Really, the whole room does. What did you say when you reserved it?"

Louis grinned. "That I wanted a king size bed with a few extra touches. Luckily, being family owned, they could accommodate me."

"What are the extra touches?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," Louis said cryptically.

"I suppose this room is for lovers? Did we just get lucky, or are all the rooms like this?" Harry wondered.

"I really don't know what the other rooms are like. Maybe each one is different—depending on what a person wants."

"I get that feeling too. Kinda custom."

When Harry turned back the covers, the crisp white sheets were so inviting, and a few red rose petals were scattered on the pillowcases. He soon found out they were also sprinkled in the bathtub and even in the toilet! He found pre-made hot chocolate (which he suspected was homemade) next to the coffee pot. Two cups accompanied the packages so they could pop them into the microwave.

"I wasn't sure about the rose petals, but the hot chocolate I _know_ you special ordered! It's summer!" Harry laughed.

"You're right. No one in their right mind would be drinkin' hot chocolate this time of year. . . except you. Do you want to rest a while, or go get an early dinner?" asked Louis.

"Let's go eat. I'm starvin.'"

"Order in? Or go out?"

"Too many questions! But I'm tired from the drive and the sun kinda drained me, so why don't we order in? Do they do that here? Like room service?"

"Unfortunately, no. But they did tell me on the phone that local restaurants will deliver. What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

"Sick! Let's order straight away!" Louis was liking this relative luxury as much as Harry was. Harry went and sat outside on a bench overlooking a beautiful little garden while Louis called to order their dinner.

When it arrived only half an hour later, Harry was delighted that it was Mexican. Enchiladas, refried beans, fried rice, tacos, and churros for dessert.

"Look at all this food! He exclaimed. "We can't eat all of this!"

"There's a fridge and microwave, remember?" And we aren't leavin' until tomorrow afternoon. We can have it for lunch tomorrow, or pick at it for a midnight snack, or whatever you want to do. This is sommat special I wanna do for you. I'd like to have a nice breakfast tomorrow mornin,' and take you to dinner at a nice restaurant before we head home. Or would you rather wait, and have dinner at home?"

"Wait . . . what did I do to deserve this?" Harry was baffled.

"You're you—you don't have to do a thing. After our argument, I just want to show you how much you mean to me. You can plan what we do for every minute we're here, although we'll only be here tonight and part of tomorrow." Louis wished it could be longer.

"Tommo, I love you. I won't stop lovin' you either." Harry held him long and tight. He hadn't voiced his love as often as Louis had, and Louis knew he had his own reservations, because of his past. But the words that were said now were so heartfelt that Louis, at last, was completely convinced Harry returned every bit of his love.

"I love you too, Harold. I want to make it up to you for ignorin' you."

"It wasn't just you though! I ignored you too!"

"Well, we'll make this mini holiday a special memory then, for both of us. And whenever we get on each other's nerves again, we'll just remember what a romantic time we had here."

The dinner was delicious, although chock full of calories and fat, but they kept in mind that it was a special occasion. When they got back home they would resume their healthy diet.

"Don't laugh, but I brought along some Gas-X. With all this Mexican food . . . well, you know. Don't wanna take any chances."

Harry laughed, and he laughed hard, clutching his sides. "Lou, you think of everythin!'"

After eating, and popping the Gas-X, Louis suggested they share a bath. Harry looked ambivalent about it, but Louis' gentle eyes reminded him that he would take care of him. Louis led him into the bathroom and plugged in the nightlight, which was, incidentally, just the right amount of light for a romantic bath with a couple in mind. He also lit a few candles that appeared from under the cabinet. Next he pulled out some bubble bath.

"I know the room didn't come with that," said Harry suspiciously.

"Well, like I said, I added a few of me own touches."

In the flickering candlelight, Harry studied Louis' classically handsome face. The angles were perfect, and he took it all in. His jaw, his cheekbones. The shadow of his beard, his Adam's apple—really, everything about him. True, the candlelight was flattering, but Louis really didn't need anything to enhance his natural good looks.

Louis sat down, after running warm water on the verge of hot into the tub, bubbles forming quickly, and Harry sat between his legs, his back to Louis. After a very full day, this was bliss. Rose petals floated lazily around them. Louis reached for his pants that were on the bathroom floor and extracted something. Harry heard the crackling of a wrapper. Next thing he knew, Louis was reaching around his head and inserting a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth.

Harry, of course, groaned at the sensation on his tongue.

"Lou, you really do think of _everythin_.'"

"It's the little things that count," Louis said, and Harry had to agree.

Louis fed him the rest of the chocolate bar (that was gourmet, by the way) and began to soap Harry up with a coconut body wash that was available along with half a dozen other choices. Harry did as he usually did—closed his eyes like a cat and began to do his own version of a purr as Louis' hands sudsed him up. It was a low rumble that Louis could feel in his chest as his hands roamed over his lover and washed him.

Washing Harry's neck and shoulders, then arms, under his arms, which made him giggle, and down to his belly. He asked him to lean forward as he washed his back, then back to his front. Louis asked Harry to rise up just a little so he could clean his beautiful package.

Then, when that was done, he directed Harry to sit back down and tilt his pelvis a little bit to the rear to raise his backside. Harry teetered a little, dumbstruck and confounded. What was Louis' intention? After washing Harry's buttocks, Louis ran his finger lightly in between Harry's butt cheeks. Just a little bit. Not too much. When Harry didn't object, he delved a little deeper until he touched his hole. Again, like last time, Harry tensed, but not as much. Progress. Okay, Louis would go just a little bit further, then stop.

He caressed Harry's hole, running his finger around the rim. Then, pulling Harry up slightly so that he sat on Louis' thighs, Louis washed him there. This was still new to Harry, but he relaxed, realizing that was all Louis was going to do—he would venture no farther. Harry pondered this. Louis was being so patient, and he deserved to be told how much that was appreciated.

So after Louis had washed Harry's legs and feet as Harry propped them on the side of the tub, Harry snuggled in before washing Louis in return.

"Thank you, for all of this," he said. Louis just nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.

As Harry washed Louis' body, they were both hard.

"I love this," commented Harry as he sifted his fingers through Louis' chest hair.

"What? You don't want me to shave it?" asked Louis.

Harry gasped as if Louis had said something completely taboo. "Never!"

When it was time to wash Louis' beautiful butt, Harry was anxious, eager. He'd cupped it many times, but never intimately like this would require.

"Go ahead. Get me clean everywhere," instructed Louis in a low, non-confrontational voice that always soothed Harry.

So Harry washed both globes of Louis' firm, toned butt and then took a deep breath and went for it. He impressed himself as his finger slipped between the cheeks, but only barely. Cheating.

"Harry," said Louis in a bit of a warning grumble. "Do it right."

After contemplating it for a moment, Harry took the plunge. His finger went all the way, deep between the cleft of Louis' cheeks, and washed all of him.

Louis smiled his pleasure, and they got out of the tub, slipping into the luxurious thick fluffy bathrobes and slippers. Harry stopped in front of the mirror to throw his head back and begin combing his hair. Louis just about came undone. He wondered if Harry had any idea what a sexy man he was.

What a mass of curls! Louis couldn't see how he could get a comb through it, but Harry patiently worked the comb through little by little without breaking many individual hairs, using finesse until he got it all combed out. The process took twenty minutes, or maybe more. Louis didn't know exactly how long, as he couldn't break his eyes away from the sight. He went into a kind of trance, a lot like how he did when Harry took off his clothes.

Later, Harry was telling Louis about a new song Uneven Emotion was working on. Louis wanted to know the lyrics, so Harry sang them, doing his best to give Louis a glimpse at how the song might sound when finished.

"Haz! Those are kick ass lyrics! It's gonna be a banger, I know it is."

"Do you really think so?"

"No doubt. It hit me hard. I don't know how you put words together and make an audience go all spellbound."

Harry's face colored. "They don't go spellbound, Lou."

"Uh, Harry, they kinda do . . ." Louis was making an honest statement, because there really wasn't any other way to explain it. The crowd hung onto Harry's every word, whether he was singing or talking. But it was registering with him that Harry would never fully realize how he affected people.

When Harry was getting into bed, he found more rose petals on the sheets on the side that he normally slept. He always slept to the left of Louis. He soon found out there was also a little card under the pillow.

_Shut the door_

_Turn the light off_

_If I wanna be with you_

_I wanna feel your love_

_I wanna lay beside you_

_I cannot hide this._

"How did you manage all this? The chocolate? The candles? The bubble bath? The rose petals? And now this card?"

Louis just smiled. "All you need to know is I love you."

And with that, Louis began to feast on Harry's mouth. It astonished Louis how the emotional aspect of their relationship continued to grow—in or out of bed.

Louis let his fingers move through Harry's damp hair, and if his fingers had been able to have an orgasm, it would have happened. The connection between them was like no other either of them had experienced before.

They let their robes slip down their arms, and Louis placed them neatly over the clothing rack so they could air dry. Harry smiled at Louis' effort at being tidy.

Once he had Harry under the covers, he kissed him long and sweet, not allowing himself to give in to the urge to have Harry _right now. _They both greatly enjoyed putting off sex until they were nearly boneless with need.

How he craved his body, thought Harry. Every time it was like it was brand new, even though they'd explored most of each other's bodies. Harry wondered if craving Louis this much was a good thing or a potentially bad thing. He needed Louis like the man was a drug. He had to have his fix or he obsessed and lamented, lusted after his touch.

When the kiss tapered off at last, Harry commented on it.

"Haz likes Louis' kissies." Okay, so he was being a little on the juvenile side, but Louis needed to be reassured that he drove Harry wild.

Louis laughed softly. "If I ever do sommat you don't like, including me kisses, I expect you to tell me. I want to do things exactly the way you like."

"Lou, me sweet creature," Harry's voice was extra low and sultry. "I've never had a single complaint so far. But I promise I'll tell you."

Louis looked satisfied with that.

Harry climbed on top of him, peppering his cheeks, chin and neck with kisses. Then the dip below Louis' collar bone. He dragged his tongue down Louis' chest, taking his time tasting every inch of his skin. He gave Louis' nipples cursory teasing little kisses, then ghosted his fingers down Louis' sides. Louis hissed with the pleasure.

"Suck me nipples," Louis said, a begging tone creeping into his words. Harry did a little bit of gentle tickling of his belly first, but Louis, not surprisingly, wasn't ticklish right now.

Oh, how he loved it that Louis knew what he wanted, and asked for it. He licked one very erect nipple thoroughly, Louis' breathing becoming more rapid. He did the same to the other, until Louis pushed the back of his neck so he was forced to taste his nipples. And Harry did it very willingly. Nibbles also went along with it.

Louis felt it all the way to his toes. That electric, tingly feeling that some men with sensitive nipples achieve. Louis felt fortunate in that his nipples weren't "dead" as some guys he'd read about. Yeah, he'd read plenty about sex as well talked to the guys in the corporate world at parties where the liquor flowed freely and tongues got loose. Some guys were really open about discussing sex, especially after having a few drinks, and he learned a lot that way. Most of the guys he'd known back then were straight, but some did admit to enjoying certain things a woman might do to them, and a few had mentioned nipple stimulation.

Louis hadn't even known about the possibility of men having sensitive nipples until he and Harry had experimented. He was delighted to know that Harry's were also very receptive.

Harry's mouth sucked steadily now, and Louis felt the wetness coming from his dick. It was one more erotic thing they could share. Louis knew his orgasms tonight would be very powerful. He could feel it building up in his balls like lava.

Fucking had always been just fucking, with no promises and no emotion. Just rutting behavior. The countless faces he couldn't even remember now. But with Harry, a new world had opened up. One that, incredibly, Louis hadn't known was possible. It was like he hadn't really lived at all until now. Until Harry.

Harry traced circles over Louis' belly with that relentless tongue of his. Louis was trying not to hold his breath, but it found it hard to breathe and fully enjoy Harry's tongue at the same time. He wanted it to be all pure sensation, and no necessary acts, such as breathing, to interfere.

Harry suddenly engulfed his cock clear down to the root.

"Holy fuck!" Louis practically jack knifed off the bed. The warm, wet suction of Harry's mouth almost unraveled him. Primal need wracked him until the bliss was almost unbearable. Harry had a lot of wild inside that mild-mannered body, and it all belonged to him.

Louis wiggled his body around and pulled at Harry's legs so that he could pleasure Harry at the same time. This was too much sensation, and he had to let it all out, had to share the thrill. Harry caught on, and soon they were deep throating each other in what was becoming a favorite position for them—sixty-nine.

They took their time at first, slowing down, teasing, letting the passion increase in strength, trying to stay in the same pleasure ballpark so they would, ultimately, reach their climaxes close together. They were learning to pace themselves to maximize the experience.

Harry felt Louis' chest and lungs expanding and heaving against his own, their breaths quickening, the tempo of motion growing a little unsteady, even though they tried to control it. A quiet desperation began to rear its head, and from then on, they gradually became voracious, greedy, moving toward their reward faster than they might have wanted, but losing their ability to hold back.

Harry was held enthralled by how much stimulation he was feeling via Louis' throat, which was squeezing the head of his cock, and his lashing tongue, alternating with avid sucking. As if that wasn't enough, he channeled his passion into the feel of Louis cock in his mouth—thirst for it making his actions aggressive, and causing Louis to moan, which vibrated into his cock, and he couldn't leash himself any longer.

Louis' fingers, two of them, were massaging the area between his balls and hole, and Harry totally lost it. He felt his cock harden so that it felt like a rock, and the first waves of his impending orgasm began.

Louis sensed this, and loosened his tight grip on himself, becoming bolder than ever with his mouth as he felt Harry's mouth doing the same. He devoured Harry as he felt himself being devoured.

They erupted close together, with Harry bursting first, his cock spasming with a violent earth-shaking explosion, Louis drinking him down eagerly.

Two of Louis' fingers were now buried inside Harry, and he felt Harry's muscles tighten and loosen in rhythm as his seed ejected from the tip, nearly choking Louis with the intensity.

It triggered his own orgasm, as he knew it would, and Harry made purring sounds, heightening Louis' pleasure even more as he had his own climax. Over and over, he shot down Harry's throat until there were only aftershocks left from both of them. They sucked until they had absolutely nothing left.

When they finally broke free of each other, Louis saw the tears in Harry's eyes, and as self-reliant and stoic as he'd been before this, Louis found himself also tearing up. Neither tried to hide their tears, but smiled through them at each other, turning around so they could hold each other.

"Oh my God, Harry, I'm so fuckin' gone on you."


	45. Chapter 45

Later, when Louis made his way to the bathroom to pee, his chuckles could be heard from the bathroom.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"These rose petals—I hate to piss on 'em! Seems so . . . disrespectful somehow."

Harry giggled. "Put a few more of 'em in for me so I can experience it too," he teased.

They made love several times that night. Whether it was a gasp or the arch of a back off the bed, it drove Louis crazy with lust every time. He loved it all. Harry was the ultimate in responsiveness, and was always up for more. How fortunate could he possibly be? To not only have the hottest guy around, but also the most amorous?

In between hot sessions, they did indeed nibble on the leftover Mexican food, and finally fell into slumber right in the middle of a discussion at two am.

In the morning, Louis followed through with his promise, taking Harry out to breakfast. They flirted at the table, both of them in one side of the booth. Louis astonished himself at how open he was becoming. And the waitress treated them just like she did the straight couples at the restaurant. This also filled Louis with confidence. Not everyone wanted to judge them, after all!

Full of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon, they returned to the beach and happily shed their clothes. They felt like regulars here now. It was amazing how quickly they had slipped right into place on this nude beach.

They knew they'd have to pack up and head home later in the afternoon. In a way they didn't want to leave, but in another way, they actually missed home, and walking the dogs.

Soon Louis was beginning to feel nervousness plucking at his resolve, and he felt timidity's unwelcome presence. Harry peered at him curiously.

They swam in the ocean; both were excellent swimmers. They splashed each other, and dived under the surface, playing like young, carefree dolphins. They felt as if they were twelve years old again. The ocean washed away tension and renewed their eagerness to enjoy this last bit of special leisure.

But as they walked back onto the beach half an hour later, Louis' anxiety was escalating. The brief swim had helped him to try to clear his head and decide on a course of action. But now, he was starting to feel the strain on his nerves, even though he'd been pushing back the thoughts of what he was planning on doing. He'd been contemplating something of extreme importance since they'd come to Black's Beach. Now the time had come . . .

"Harry . . . I've been wantin' to talk to you," Louis spoke up as they lay on their sides on the beach towel, having a staring session. Harry could see that Louis was restless, he even seemed nervous.

"Fire away."

"Okay, well . . . we've already said we're exclusive, right?" Louis waited for Harry to affirm this fact with a nod before continuing.

Now Louis was really jittery. Harry didn't often see him like this, and it concerned him. Made him feel uneasy. Was Louis going to change his mind about being exclusive?

"Well, I don't know . . . I don't know how to say this, or how to do it."

Harry's brow creased. "Lou, is it sommat bad?" Was Louis going to break up with him? Highly unlikely, unless he'd really misinterpreted Louis this weekend.

"No, I don't think it is. But I don't know how you'll feel."

Completely stymied, Harry was afraid to hear what Louis was struggling to say. He flipped over onto his stomach and put his head down on his arms. He wanted this, whatever it was, to just go away. Here he'd thought things were going so well, and now Louis wanted to bring up something serious. He could see it in Louis' eyes. The man was torn, and it was enough to thoroughly spook Harry.

"Look, I know you're in the dark about how I'm feelin' and what I want to say. Let's go to our room, okay? More privacy?"

Now Harry was truly alarmed. It was something that Louis couldn't even say on the beach? His nerves suddenly felt like they were shredding.

Harry was absolutely silent, and Louis could tell he was stunned. They put their clothes on and trudged through the sand and across the street to their room, Harry's legs feeling numb the whole way. He could feel his insides vibrating, and he felt like he was a little bit in shock.

When they reached the room, Harry found himself sitting on the bed with Louis sitting beside him, and no memory of entering the room. Things looked hazy—his vision was messed up. He knew it was because of the anxiety that was hitting him hard now.

Louis saw that Harry's pupils were blown. He'd have to put his mind at ease—he hated seeing him out of sorts like this.

"I know . . . I know it's still early. Well, not really _that_ early, but I've only known you a few months and . . . I've no idea if I'm out of line here, but we've both professed our love, and . . ." Louis was suddenly on one knee, holding Harry's hand in his own. Harry still had no clue where this was going, and his heart was pounding against his ribs.

"And . . . will you . . . someday, um . . . marry me? Just be engaged for right now?"

Louis stayed motionless and waited. He'd been pondering this since before they'd even arrived here, thinking that maybe in another six months he should bring up marriage. But the fact was, he didn't want to wait any longer. He, himself, knew how he felt, so he'd come to the conclusion, after hours of thinking about it, that it wouldn't do any harm to ask. The worst Harry could do was to say no. He knew though, that Harry was the one for him. So he'd decided to chance it.

Harry tried to talk, and only succeeded in going into a coughing fit. His throat was bone dry from the tremendous jolt. He took a sip from his water bottle, swallowing and staring at Louis, mute.

He made an attempt at speaking. "Lou, you really, like, um . . . you really _really _startled me. I didn't expect . . . that. Not at all," he stammered.

Marriage was now legal for gays in California, and even if it hadn't been, this would still be a big deal—a _huge_ deal for Harry.

Luckily, Harry found his voice again.

"Oh Lou . . . me sweet creature. This is beyond me wildest dreams, and I'd _love_ to get engaged! I'd love to marry you too!"

Louis' blue eyes were a shimmering clear aqua in the bright sun shining through the window, and he plunged his hand into a pocket of his jeans, pulling a small box out. He presented the box to Harry.

Harry's mouth formed a huge O as he carefully accepted the box with quivering hands. Now he felt _really_ faint. As he slowly opened it two gold bands were revealed.

"Oh Louis. Oh! I never dreamed . . . This means the world to me. You actually want me to marry you?" Harry was clearly still in shock.

"Of course, silly. Why would I have gotten rings otherwise?"

Harry touched the rings reverently with the pads of his fingertips. "Can I?" he asked almost cautiously.

"Of course! That's what they're for!"

Harry, watching Louis' solemn eyes as he removed one of the bands, reached for Louis' hand. Louis, caught off guard, thinking Harry was going to put it on his own finger, allowed Harry to slip it on his own. Louis smiled widely, and reached for the second band and placed it on Harry's ring finger of the left hand, as Harry had done with him.

And then they kissed. Were they dreaming? If he was dreaming, Harry knew he'd be bitterly disappointed when he woke up.

Louis was so completely relieved that he'd pulled it off. He hadn't known if he'd have the nerve to actually do it. Relief rolled off him like sweat.

Harry was staring at the ring on his finger, studying it, worshiping it, then his gaze would go to Louis' finger, then back to his own.

"When did you get them?" he asked.

"It isn't easy slippin' by you, but last week, that day you were washin' the Rover? I said I wanted to go get some socks and shirts? That was the day."

Harry's eyes reflected that he recalled the day in question.

"I asked you if you wanted me to go along. You always say yes. And this time you didn't. I thought you wanted some time away from me!" Harry was smiling in realization.

"Yeah, and I felt bad about it too. I knew it hurt your feelins' a little bit, but how else could I do it? You know I love havin' you along wherever I go."

"I love you, baby," said Harry, his eyes still a little glazed over.

"I love you too, and do you like the ring?"

"It's gorgeous. Just like you."

This made Louis wiggle in embarrassment.

"How did you know me size? It fits perfectly."

"Haz, those rings you have? I just pinched the one that you sometimes wear on your right ring finger. I took it along with me."

"Tommo, you sneak!" Harry was delighted, and his dimples were the proof. They were deeper than ever.

"When we get home, first thing I'm gonna do is tell the guys in the band, and Brooke and Aaron!" Harry was so anxious to tell their friends that he'd forgotten to ask Louis if that was what he wanted as well. But Louis' smile told him how pleased Louis was to hear it.

"And I'm gonna call me parents and sister too!" Louis announced. "Bring it in."

Harry leaned sideways, falling down on the bed, hugging Louis where he still knelt on the floor. "I was so dizzy!" he admitted. "I thought you were gonna say sommat bad!"

"Like what?"

Harry was embarrassed to admit it, but remembered that honesty and communication were key in their relationship.

"I thought there was a chance . . . that you might not want to be exclusive anymore, or even worse . . . that you wanted to break up with me."

Louis laughed. "Hazza, how could you even _think _such a thing?"

"I didn't want to, but I had to be prepared just in case. . . "

"It'll never happen. Not unless you wanted it to. And even then, you'd have a hard time gettin' rid of me."

Harry's turn to laugh.

"When I take you to dinner, I know a place that has great lobster ravioli," Louis said. "I know you love lobster."

Harry, still having a bit of a faraway look in his eyes, enthused. "Makes me mouth water to think about it." Harry had told Louis of his love for lobster some time ago, and Louis figured this was the perfect time to indulge him.

Now they were a hot mess on the bed. Louis had an evil grin on his face. Harry was so good at unraveling him, and he was more eager than ever, now that he'd gotten past the huge trial he'd just braved with Harry.

Harry was on top of him, and Louis feeling vulnerable, a rarity for him. Louis handed the reins over to Harry. Let him do with him as he pleased. He let Harry coax him to the mattress, so he could press him into it and smother him with affection.

"You ready for me?" asked Harry.

"Of course," said Louis, happy but a little confused.

Harry proceeded to lick him all over.

"Ready for me cock?" Harry asked.

Louis just about gasped out loud. He didn't know what to say. He stared at Harry, dumbfounded.

"I'm ready. I'm finally ready," Harry stated with pride. Well, Louis expected Harry to be ready at some point, but for Louis' cock, not what Louis was suspecting he meant.

"I'm ready too," Louis said, so as to in no way discourage Harry. Harry threw the covers and sheets back, and stimulated Louis' cock with his mouth first—as if he really had to! Louis was already rock hard, and the thought of Harry inside him sounded really good right now.

"I haven't . . . done this to anyone before. Only had it done to me."

Louis wasn't that surprised by that statement, but he was still reeling from the thought that Harry wanted to be the top.

"You're sure?" asked Harry. "I'm so happy that you want to marry me, and we hadn't even . . . fucked yet."

Louis laughed. "I really love you, Haz. Fuckin' isn't a top priority for me. Or a bottom . . ." he murmured as an afterthought. He hadn't been able to resist.

Harry laughed loudly, a real belly laugh, then slapped his hand over his mouth. "So you don't mind?" he asked.

"No! I can do either. I usually topped before, but the idea of you inside me is, oh man, so excitin.'"

"So you've bottomed before?" asked Harry.

"A few times—not many. And you've really never topped before?"

"No—you'll have to help me . . . guide me, whatever."

So, together, they were a bit clumsy, as Harry wasn't used to topping, and Louis wasn't really that used to bottoming, but in no time, after some wet preparation from Harry's mouth and his fingers, which drove Louis wild, he was buried deep in Louis, and Louis could feel every ridge, every inch of Harry's enormous cock, and it was absolutely Heavenly. After the sting, of course. It had hurt a little at first because he hadn't done it in so long, along with Harry's size. But it didn't take long until Harry was slowly rocking him, pushing in and pulling out gently.

The feeling was wondrous. Louis was so tight that Harry was afraid he'd blow at any time. They stared into each other's eyes, completely enthralled.

"Give it to me, Harry," Louis commanded gently. "Before we both come, I want it hard and fast."

Harry felt his cock jump at the very idea, and so he did just that. With Louis urging him on, Harry plunged as deep as he could, rubbing against Louis' prostate now and then. Faster and faster he went, and harder, because Louis was demanding it, pulling him closer, matching Harry's movements with his own. Toward the end, Harry angled himself just right, and it wasn't difficult with his size, to nail it repeatedly, with every thrust.

Louis cried out, and Harry felt the warm liquid between their bodies as Louis continued to cry out with every spurt. Harry, feeling Louis' insides spasming on his cock, squeezing and encouraging, could no longer hold back, and he erupted too.

Afterward, they held each other. And the affection flowed.

"You looked so shocked when I asked you to marry me."

"Oh man, I wasn't expectin' that at all. I figured if we were still together a year from now, then _maybe,_ but this caught me completely unaware," admitted Harry. "But I'm so happy!" he added, making sure Louis knew he had not a single reservation.

When they finally pulled into the apartment complex at dusk, they rushed inside to get dressed for dinner.

Harry was ravenous for the lobster ravioli, and he savored it, dipping it in the butter and moaning in pleasure at the sensory experience of the taste on his tongue.

Louis was wondering if the lobster would put Harry in a mood to possibly, just _possibly,_ bottom tonight. It would sure be a hella day if he did. So, just for an added incentive, Louis ordered some oysters. Harry's grin told Louis he knew why the oysters were present. And he ate at least five. So if what they said about oysters was true, Louis might be in luck.

But really, it didn't matter. The fact that Harry had made love to him, and they'd gotten engaged today was more than enough to make Louis jubilant. Even though he had to keep readjusting himself in his seat from the soreness.

"Kissy?" asked Harry at the restaurant, and it floored Louis that he actually found that he had the balls to do it. It was a very quick, one second kiss, but he'd finally done it. He wanted to prove to Harry in any way he could that he was out to make him feel fulfilled.

Harry looked jolted when Louis' lips had touched his—in this nice restaurant with people seated all around them, and he felt Louis' love stronger than ever. Louis was officially out now, having kissed him in a setting like this. This was the final step, as Louis' parents and sister, their friends, and Harry's bandmates all knew. Harry was beside himself with joy. He didn't know how to express it though, except to smile from ear to ear. And that is what he did. And Louis felt his approval loud and clear.

When they got home that night, they couldn't get their clothes off fast enough. The night was warm, the breeze coming through the bedroom window, and they laid on the mattress, having pulled back the sheets and blanket completely.

Harry was completely receptive. Louis had never seen him so willing, open and carefree. And they hadn't even had a drop of alcohol with dinner!

"Slow hands. I'm gonna use slow hands on you," Louis stated.

Harry basked in Louis' touch, as he always had. There wasn't a single twinge of tentativeness. He poured himself into it, following Louis' lead, showing absolute, utter trust for the first time.

Their kisses were on fire, their lips wet and searching. Hungry. They were both so very hungry. They sucked each other's tongues with a greed like never before. Still, Louis kept things under control for as long as he could.

After kissing and licking Harry at least three times over his entire body, Louis settled between his legs. He was tempted to push his mouth down onto his cock, but refrained. Not right away. Tonight was special. It called for sweet, torturous teasing, thorough touching, words of love.

When Louis at last spread Harry's legs, Harry was moldable. No resistance at all, no tension. Just all relaxation and adoration in his glowing green eyes.

Louis readied him in depth, leaving no stone unturned. He massaged the inside of Harry's legs, noting Harry let them spread naturally. When his fingers and mouth stimulated, Harry showed no tendency to hold back. He breathed loudly and heavily, obviously looking forward to it. And Louis could not have been more proud.

When Louis finally hovered at his entrance, having made sure he was well lubricated, they were face to face. Louis needed to see his face, watch his expressions, and most of all, see him come. He kept waiting for Harry to say to stop, that he couldn't go through with it, but it never happened.

As he glided in a fraction of an inch at a time, he'd pull almost all the way out again, then gently slide in again. That way, it was least painful for Harry. When Harry's hips came up to meet his, Louis knew it was time to give him his all. Soon Louis was all the way in, a look of wonder on his face, not having knowing when, or even if this would _ever _happen. He would have been happy with the way things were if Harry could not accept Louis inside him. But Harry had surrendered entirely, and willingly. _Willingly _was the paramount element. Louis knew without a speck of a doubt that Harry wanted this as badly as he did.

They moved together, and almost right away Louis was in danger of losing it way too early. Harry was sheathed around him so tightly and invitingly. He could barely move in and out without giving into the very substantial urge to come.

"Hard and fast? Like I did with you?" Harry's voice was strained, as if he was fighting off an orgasm as well.

"Hell yeah." Getting the go-ahead, Louis began to thrust a little harder, and with Harry's urging, harder still. The moans that came from Harry were so erotic. They were in a flawless rhythm, with Louis thrusting so fast and hard that the sensations were spiking through him, and he realized he'd found Harry's prostate. Perilously close to coming himself, he zeroed in on it and rubbed it with each pass, as Harry had done to him.

Suddenly, they were both coming violently. It had caught them both by surprise with an iron grip. Louis had felt the tingles beginning, but they had escalated so quickly that there was no way he was going to be able to practice enough discipline on himself to stop it.

Mingled groans, wild, haphazard thrusts that were out of time, but still oh-so-delicious. It seemed they came for a very long time. Together. Their orgasms were powerful and all-consuming.

Finally, when they had nothing left, Louis leaned forward and kissed Harry with all the passion he was feeling, and Harry gave it right back.

"Well, we'll have to work on lastin' longer, but I think we're sick together!" exclaimed Harry.

Louis laughed, shaking his head. Harry was a real character.

"Harry, you do say the damndest things!"


	46. Chapter 46

**Prologue**

A little over four months later, they held hands in front of the clergy, shaking and sweaty. It was all kind of a blur, but here they were, at last. It was a civil ceremony, but no less special. Louis' parents had flown in from England to be there for their son's wedding. His sister hadn't been able to get away from work, but she was planning on coming soon to meet Harry and spend a few days with the happy couple.

Aaron and Brooke were in attendance, as well as Harry's bandmates, and a few of their favorite dog-walking clients. It was nice and intimate, and they planned to all go out to eat afterward. Louis' parents insisted on paying.

Uncle Phil had moved out of the immediate area, finding friends, according to Brooke, and, Louis and Harry hoped, making a better person of himself.

Louis and Harry had bought their own home in Los Angeles. A modest home but with plenty of room that they both loved. It had a huge, fenced back yard, and they planned on getting a dog soon. They were still walking dogs, and Harry and Uneven Emotion were becoming more and more in demand, in cities surrounding Hollywood as well. Their horizons were definitely broadening. Aaron had predicted Harry would be famous, and Louis didn't doubt it for a minute. Things were already building toward that.

Aaron and Brooke were planning to get married within a year. They were Harry and Louis' best friends. Louis' parents had loved Harry at first sight—and who wouldn't? and have given their sincere, solid approval, even though his father was a lot more reserved about it. Nevertheless, he supported his son.

The vows were recited, and the rings slipped onto their fingers. Harry was fighting back tears, with a few escaping anyway, and Louis was feeling all the same emotions, but was a little better at keeping it in check at this moment. Later on though, when he and Harry were alone again, he knew he'd probably lose it.

They had asked Louis' parents to stay at their house, but they had declined, wanting to give the newlyweds privacy. They would be leaving to go back to England in three days.

"You may now kiss," announced the clergyman. Neither one hesitated. They kissed sweetly and with feeling, but didn't go overboard because of Louis' father, who was still feeling quite awkward with the situation. He'd get used to it soon enough, mused Louis.

After the congratulations, Brooke hugged them both with her usual enthusiasm and then asked what restaurant they'd be going to. Everyone laughed. Louis' mother was busy hugging Louis and Harry, and Louis' father was shaking Harry's hand, his eyes sincere.

"Sommat fancy," Louis' father answered Brooke's question. And he led their caravan of cars to a stunning restaurant that overlooked the ocean, the entire restaurant rotating constantly, with the huge floor to ceiling windows providing everyone in the restaurant with the view. It was very impressive.

"Nice, innit?" asked Louis' mother.

"It's so beautiful. I never even knew a rotating restaurant existed! It's nicer than we would have ever imagined," said Harry.

"Tomorrow we are having a reception for Louis and Harry at our house," announced Aaron. Of course, everyone except Louis and Harry had already known about it so everyone could be prepared with gifts. Louis' mother had helped Brooke prepare for the party.

Louis and Harry had been very skittish when Louis had told his parents on the phone of their wedding plans. But it was easier than expected—Louis' mother had already fancied it was going to happen. Harry had been a main subject topic every time he'd called her.

Brooke had demonstrated a lot of courage and had called Louis' parents to tell them about the reception. Swiping Louis' phone to get their number hadn't been easy, but she'd managed it. And calling them blind as she did-she didn't even know his parents after all. Louis could scarcely believe she'd done it. But then, that was Brooke. Bold and confident.

Louis and Harry had discussed children, and planned to adopt a couple in a few years, or maybe . . . and most likely, before that.

"I hope you two will be visiting us sometime soon, when you can get away from . . . work," Louis' mother hadn't known exactly what to call their "job."

Harry looked excited, and expectant when he looked to Louis. He could also visit some friends while they were in England. He hadn't been back in a while.

"Wait a minute, let me overthink that," said Louis, winking at Harry. "Yeah, I think," he said, looking adoringly at Harry, "we'd love that. Oi! Oi!"

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed A Walk in the Park. So many thanks to my readers. I've so enjoyed writing this story! I'm going to be taking a few months off from writing. I've said that before, and it only turned out to be two weeks at most! It's hard not to write every day, but I do need a break. I'll be back!_


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